Pins & Needles
by hundred
Summary: Despite her hate for magic, Kathleen is at Hogwarts to make up for lost time. Draco sees Kathleen as a welcome distraction, but things aren't so simple. He's in over his head and he's struggling to reconcile his selfishness with his new found conscience.
1. Chapter 1

**_A/N: _**_Hey guys! This is my first fanfic, so please please PLEASE give me any feedback that you have. I know romances are inherently a bit fluffy, but I genuinely want to create as good of a story as I can. As you can see though, this is rated M and there will be language, some violence and other –adult—themes, hemm hemm._

_Just as a couple of notes, this fic is set during Half-Blood Prince, but there will definitely be some noticeable deviations from the book so don't hate me for it :]_

_I own NONE of Harry Potter and all credit goes to the wonderful J.K. Rowling._

**Chapter One**

"Look at me."

Kathleen McCormack's eyes darted nervously towards the gate, then back to the floor. She was horrendously uncomfortable - the airport was an unpleasant place to begin with, and the circumstances _within _said airport weren't helping any.

She bit the inside of her cheek and avoided all forms of eye contact.

"_Kathleen_._" _Her mother's voice was pleading.

After considerable hesitation, Kathleen obeyed. Her mother's gold-flecked green eyes - a mirror of her own - were swimming with tears, but she was smiling through her sadness. "You'll be just fine, sweetheart. You'll be with your friends and you'll be _here_, where everything is familiar."

Her father cleared his throat and smiled as well, but his was less convincing. "Right. And we won't even be gone a year. Back before you know it," he said playfully. "Please be good to your grandmother."

When Kathleen rolled her eyes, he pulled her into a warm hug and ruffled her hair. She might've cried along with them, but all she felt was a profound _lack _of feeling, like she was floating in an emotional nothingness.

Perhaps she was just being dramatic.

"We'll miss you," her mother whispered, "but we'll write all the time."

She nodded mutely. Finally, she turned to scoop up two-year-old Bridget into her arms and she planted a kiss on her forehead.

"_Yuck, _Kaffleen!" Bridget protested, squirming roughly until she was safely released back to the ground. When their mother began to usher the toddler forward and she realized that Kathleen was staying put, she frowned, clearly confused. Bridget put her two pudgy hands over her hips, an aggravating habit that she'd picked up in the last couple of weeks. "Come _on_!"

"I'm staying for a bit," Kathleen said, probably too loudly. "I'll be here when you get back."

Bridget eyed her uneasily, then shrank closer to her mother's side. "You'll be here," she repeated cautiously. "With Nann?"

"Exactly," Kathleen replied. "Behave yourself."

Her younger sister nodded solemnly, then ran back to give her sister a farewell hug before timidly shuffling back to hold their mother's hand.

With that, she watched as her family walked towards the customs counter. One final wave, and they disappeared from sight.

They were going to the United States for a temporary job opportunity for her father—it was only ten months, but with the economy being the way it was and the pay they were offering, there hadn't been much choice. It would also get his foot in the door with some much-needed American business contacts for when the family returned home to Ireland.

Kathleen, however, was left here, with her maternal grandmother. It was in the middle of the school year and her parents had decided that it would be better not to displace her. Reluctantly, Kathleen agreed and stayed behind, even though she was anxious to be away from her tight-knit family.

"Come on, child," Nann said gently. "Let's get home and unpack your things."

The car ride over was quiet, and Kathleen could tell that there was something troubling Nann's mind. She was a beautiful woman considering her age—she was over sixty years old and still had traces of flaming red hair within her mostly silver bun. She still wore makeup, though her rouged lips were now in a tight frown.

There had always been a certain amount of tension with Nann—though she was always warm and kind on the surface, Kathleen had overheard more than one argument between her and her mother where stinging words and pleading were frequent. She knew the reason for the fights, too—her mother's side of the family had magical powers, and her father's side did not. Nann never degraded her son-in-law for his lack of ability, but she totally disagreed with her daughter's decision to live a muggle life and to have her children do the same.

When she was eleven, Kathleen received her Hogwarts letter in the mail, just as she was told she would. While there was a fleeting moment of curiosity, her parents had instilled in her the values of a magic-free life, and she wanted to stay in the muggle world. She never learned magic, she'd never even as much as seen it.

"Something wrong, Nann?" Kathleen asked as they snaked through the city.

Her grandmother shook her head, giving Kathleen a sad smile. "No, no. Just very sorry to see them go."

* * *

><p>"What do you <em>mean<em>, you and dad agreed?"

Usually, Kathleen wasn't so quick-tempered, especially with her grandmother. Respect your elders and all that nonsense.

Her grandmother sighed. "Look, darling, I know how you've grown up, but now that you'll be away from your mother, we've both realized it's a good time for you to learn magic. She doesn't know yet, of course, so you _won't_ be mentioning it in any of your letters. Your father has finally realized that it's unfair to keep you from a witch's life that you were born to live. He's going to ease your mother into the idea while they're away."

Kathleen was dumbfounded. She was astounded that her father had agreed to anything so ludicrous. Though her father was the one without powers, it was her mother who had been so adamant to live the non-magic life. Granted, the original reason for shunning magic was because of her mother's devotion to her father and her fear of him rejecting her, but Kathleen knew that the issue went far deeper than that. She was very tight-lipped to Kathleen and her mother on the issue, though Kathleen knew her father was relieved to keep his normal lifestyle regardless of the reason behind it.

"Nann, I know you want me to learn it, but… I just have no interest in magic."

Her grandmother gave a tight smile and regarded Kathleen, sizing her up. Kathleen couldn't read her expression. "You will."

Kathleen glared furiously at her grandmother. With her out of control strawberry blonde waves haloing around her head, she looked a bit like an angry green-eyed lion about to strike. "What about school? The whole reason I stayed here was so I could keep with my friends, Nann!"

"You'll make new friends," she assured dismissively, as if that were the end of the conversation. Kathleen wasn't going to give up so easily.

"They won't take me anyway. I don't know magic, they're not just going to let me pop in and settle among the fifth years."

Her grandmother grinned, revealing the dazzling smile that she had passed on to her daughter, and she to Kathleen. "No, of course not."

She raised an eyebrow skeptically, waiting for her Nann's retaliation.

"That's why I've told the Headmaster that you've been homeschooled. If we start training today—which we will be, don't give me that look—I should have you at an acceptable level come September."

* * *

><p>Kathleen refused to go to some imaginary platform with her grandmother. She had agreed, however, to go with Seamus Finnigan. Seamus' mother and her own had been good friends at Hogwarts, and had remained that way afterward. Kathleen had seen Seamus more than a dozen times in her childhood because of their parent's friendship, and while she wouldn't call them chums, she at least <em>knew <em>him.

He gave her a warm smile when she arrived at the train station. Kathleen gave a curt goodbye to her grandmother and walked stiffly beside Seamus. She tried to hide her frustration, but was doing a poor job of it. Her clothes were wrinkled; her hair out of control and her nails were bitten to the quick. She had never felt so nervous.

There was no kind way of putting it; Kathleen was downright pathetic at magic. Trying to cram four years worth of spells and incantations into a ten month period with an unmotivated student was one of the worst ideas her Nann had ever had. Her parents had offered no sympathy either—eventually, Nann told her mother about the situation and since then, her parents had been oddly adamant about magic when she had spoken to them on the phone.

Kathleen tugged at her sleeves anxiously. Seamus raised an eyebrow at her.

"Alright?" he asked.

Kathleen stared at him. Despite the length of time she had known Seamus, he may as well have been a stranger for how comfortable she felt then. She shrugged, then held her breath has she followed behind Seamus into a seemingly solid wall.

* * *

><p>The whole day was a blur to her. She spent the train ride with Seamus and his friend Dean Thomas. Despite herself, she had managed to forget about the circumstances for a few moments, and she'd managed to have a few laughs on the commute. Seamus had a dry wit that he had kept subdued whenever he visited her home, but now that they were away from their parents he allowed it to show freely. Dean was equally as sharp, and was thrilled that Gryffindor might have a new recruit. She liked the idea—her grandmother had told her that she'd be most proud if she was put into Slytherin, but she didn't think it mattered much, and the two Gryffindor boys had given her a much-needed sense of welcome.<p>

The anxious feeling that had been building in her stomach turned into a cold twist of dread when she stepped off the train.

The castle was magnificent and regal— completely breathtaking.

Kathleen felt an instant, burning hatred towards Hogwarts.

She had never wanted this. Her life had been magical enough—she was happy, she had friends she adored, she loved accomplishing things through her own hard work. As far as Kathleen was concerned, magic was nothing more than a deadly infection—as soon as she had come into contact with it, her life had begun to wither away and die. She tried to be optimistic like her parents and Nann had encouraged her to, but she couldn't help but feel bitterness.

She was still fighting internally when she stepped up to the famed Sorting Hat.

_There's nothing hidden in your head the Sorting Hat can't see…_

_Then you should see that I should be sent home, back to where I belong_, Kathleen thought furiously.

_You belong here_, the Hat said, although she couldn't be sure if everyone else could hear it talking as well. _I see great determination. You're quick-tempered, yes, stubborn too._

_You're painting a great picture of me, _she snapped back at the Hat sarcastically.

_You underestimate your resourcefulness and skill. When the time comes, you will hold onto your beliefs and do everything within your power to achieve what you believe that you must. _

Kathleen frowned, a little confused by what the Hat was telling her.

_"Slytherin!" _the Hat bellowed.

Feeling hollow, Kathleen stood and walked towards the Slytherin table, trying to ignore the disappointed looks on Seamus and Dean's faces. Despite what the Sorting Hat had said about her resourcefulness and determination, she couldn't help but feel ashamed that she was headed towards the house known for having master manipulators and selfish egotists.

She sat at the end of the table, cut off from most of the others. She recognized no one, much as she expected. After the Sorting was finished, she quietly served herself some roasted carrots and boiled chicken and ate in silence.

She stood up with her plate in hand, then realized everyone was staring at her.

"What are you doing?" a mocha-skinned boy with striking green eyes inquired.

Kathleen immediately reddened and set her plate down on the table. "Sorry—I was just bringing my plate back to the kitchen to be washed, is all."

He smiled. He had a generous mouth and straight white teeth. "Where did you _come _from?" he laughed. When Kathleen stared back at him like a deer in headlights, he explained that the dishes were transported from the tables by the house elves and that she didn't need to worry about it.

She nodded, embarrassed. "Sorry—homeschooled," she mumbled as an explanation, smiling a little.

The boy shrugged and extended his hand. "Blaise Zabini." He stared at her slyly. "You're blushing like mad."

Kathleen ignored his comment and shook Blaise's hand. "Kathleen M—O'Malley," she stuttered. Her Nann had told her to use a pseudonym so no one would know that she had not, in fact, been homeschooled for the past four years. She desperately tried to shake the habit of saying Kathleen _McCormack_.

"This is Malfoy," he said casually, nudging the boy next to him, whom Kathleen hadn't been paying attention to. He had steely eyes with a penetrating stare, a strong jaw and wispy blonde hair. Kathleen realized with a flush of embarrassment that this coldly handsome Malfoy was in fact _staring_ at her, with no hint of friendliness in his eyes.

"Hi," she offered warmly. She thought of trying to shake hands with him too, but her instincts immediately told her no. He didn't reply—he just continued to stare at her, only breaking his gaze to do a split-second once over of her body. He acknowledged her by raising his eyebrows slightly, and she thought she could see a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. She laughed awkwardly, and he broke his intense eye contact with her and chose to return to his food.

Uncomfortable and warm-cheeked, Kathleen glared at him and wordlessly excused herself from the table without waiting for dessert.

* * *

><p>He straightened his Prefect's badge and smoothed his platinum hair with his fingers, then sighed. The pressure was mounting on him - much as he tried to shake it. He told himself that he needed to forget about his family for the time being in order to avoid his emotions tangling with his success.<p>

He splashed icy water onto his pale skin. He needed to control himself, keep his composure, come off as the same prick that he always had been—no signs of weakness, even though he wanted to give into it.

He toweled off his face and a grin spread across his face. There was one saving grace in the situation… this transfer girl, Kathleen - home-schooled and fiery, smelling of intoxicating cinnamon and vanilla. She seemed naïve but perhaps just a bit fiesty, a perfect combination in Draco's eyes. She'd fall easily for his charm, she'd be like putty in his hands, but not so easily that it wouldn't cause plenty of excitement for him.

_Malfoy wants, Malfoy gets._

Malfoy wanted a distraction. He knew that this O'Malley would be a very, _very _welcomed distraction.


	2. Looking good, Squib

When he returned from the Prefect's bathroom, the Slytherins were huddled on the black leather sofas and gossiping—hardly surprising since they had an entire summer to dish on and a whole set of new Slytherins to judge. Daphne Greengrass had her legs draped over Blaise's knees, Crabbe and Goyle were plopped on one end of the couch and Pansy was on the far end, making sure her toes weren't anywhere close to touching Goyle. Theodore Nott was sitting alone his usual arm chair.

"Where've you been?" Crabbe demanded.

"None of your damn business," Draco retorted, sitting down next to Blaise.

"Tsk tsk, don't you think it's a bit early in the year to be sneaking off?" Blaise tutted, grinning slyly.

Draco rolled his eyes. He knew he couldn't blame them—they knew nothing of the task ahead of him—but he was annoyed that they still thought he had time to frolic about as he pleased. Ever since his father had been imprisoned, his life had become a blur of dark magic and the worst kind of anticipation.

He had hoped that coming to Hogwarts would ease his mind a bit, but seeing the old crackpot made his insides crawl. He couldn't forget what he had to do… And no matter how highly he thought of himself, the thought of _murdering _someone was too much for him—sure, he hated Dumbledore and his muggle-loving ways, but he didn't want him to die for it, and certainly not by his hand.

"—pretty easy on the eyes, wouldn't you say?"

"If you like the almost-ginger look, yeah," Theodore replied, shrugging indifferently.

Malfoy snapped back to reality, his attention suddenly sharp. "Who?"

"The new O'Malley girl," Blaise replied, drumming his fingers on Daphne's legs. "Never heard of any O'Malleys, though."

Crabbe's expression darkened. "Probably a Mudblood."

"Unlikely," Draco said a little too defensively. "She said she's homeschooled. You can't be taught magic at home if you don't have any magical relatives."

Crabbe looked skeptical. "I don't understand why she'd be homeschooled, anyway."

Pansy had been watching Draco as he spoke, her eyes growing more and more sour. "Planning on getting her into bed, Drake?"

"Come off it, Pansy," Daphne said dismissively. "She's new, good-looking and knows _nothing _about him. Of course he wants to bed her. Quit acting so shocked and hurt."

* * *

><p>"Uh, Professor, I'm… I'm not really sure what I did wrong, but I don't think this is how it's supposed to look."<p>

Professor Slughorn gave Kathleen a sharp look, seemingly surprised (and slightly annoyed) that someone would actually _admit _to having botched a potion. He sighed and shuffled over to her, then stared at her cauldron, perplexed.

"Miss O'Malley…" He scratched his head. "I'm really not sure what you've done, either." Slughorn took a stirring rod and prodded the cement-like purple substance, which barely moved in response. "I'm afraid that I can't pass this potion. You may start over if you wish, but I'm not sure there'll be enough time for you to re-grind your beetle's wings."

Kathleen nodded and tried to give a smile, but she was biting back tears. "Thanks, Professor."

The whole week had been this way. She was nowhere near where she ought to be and being dismal in _every _class was starting to wear on her. When she was at home, Kathleen was energetic and reckless, with a genuine excitement for whatever came at her. At Hogwarts, she just felt exhausted and out of place. At first, the Professors were accommodating, like she was just horrid because of nerves, but they were all quickly growing exasperated. Professor Snape had not-so-kindly told her that if she and Neville Longbottom were ever to procreate, the fate of the wizarding world would be doomed. She cursed her grandmother for sending her to Hogwarts—surely she must have known how behind she would be.

Once word had gotten out about her magical incompetency, she had been all but alienated from the Slytherins. Blaise still spoke to her from time to time out of politeness, but his initial curiosity and intrigue had definitely waned. She knew they all thought she was totally beneath them which made returning to the common room at night more and more of a chore.

Kathleen had taken to sitting at the Gryffindor table with Seamus and Dean at mealtimes which was a wonderful break from her hellish school day.

"You'll get better," Dean said encouragingly, grinning at Kathleen. "You're just not used to the classroom style yet. It must be real different when you're just doing it on your own."

Seamus, who was the only one in the school who knew about her non-magic life because of their mother's friendships nodded and played along. "Shame about getting sorted into Slytherin, though."

It quickly became apparent that there was animosity and tension between the houses. Kathleen wondered if Seamus and Dean would have adopted her as a friend if they had known she would be a Slytherin, but she chose to leave the subject alone.

"So what do you do here in your free time?" Kathleen asked. Grades seemed to be a bust, but she knew she'd be miserable if she didn't make an effort to have some sort of fun if she was going to _live _there for the next ten months.

"You play football at all at home?" Dean asked. Kathleen nodded. Footie was one of her favourite pastimes—sports were a glorious release of frustration, and her best friends back in Ireland had grown closer through their various team memberships.

"Well, I think we ought to show you some Quidditch," he said with a daring grin. "It's like footie, but fifty feet in the air with four different balls. Just brilliant."

For the first time all week, Kathleen brightened. "That sounds amazing! How do I start playing?"

Dean's smile faded slightly, and he looked uneasily at his housemates at the table. "Well, you have to get on the team, and if you've never played before, it's pretty unlikely…"

Seamus interjected. "How about we take you out right now? We all play—we can show you the ropes." He stared pleadingly at two boys sitting adjacent to them, one Kathleen recognized as the famed Harry Potter and the other a redheaded boy who was stuffing his mouth with treacle tart.

"We don't want to train up the enemy," the redhead said, but his tone was kind and teasing. He grinned at her. "Come on. Hopefully for us, you'll be just as rubbish at Quidditch as you are at magic so we have nothing to worry about."

* * *

><p>"You're a bloody liar, O'Malley!" Seamus screamed at her across the pitch. "You told me you've never flown before!"<p>

Kathleen felt her ego swell, and she stuck her tongue out at him.

"You know I haven't!" she yelled back, grinning. The first half hour of flying was terrifying and Kathleen found it difficult to keep her balance, but she soon became addicted to the rush she got from whipping through the air. She picked up the rules to Quidditch quickly—the game was simple enough.

Ron had quickly surmised that she was much too energetic on the field to play Keeper—having to stay in one spot for a long period of time and wait for the action wouldn't work. Ditto for Seeker. She had shown glee at the prospect of being a Beater (what could be more exciting than whacking rogue attackers with a club?), but she lacked the strength and weight that she would need to stay balanced on a broom while knocking away a bludger. Kathleen was beginning to get discouraged—this seemed like the only saving grace to Hogwarts and she _needed _to be a part of it—but she found with unbridled glee that she excelled at being a Chaser. She had the slight, muscular build that allowed her maximum speed and maneuverability while still being able to shoot the quaffle into the hoops.

After about two hours, they all touched ground, exhausted.

"That was brilliant!" Kathleen panted. She felt slightly more timid now that she was removed from the excitement of the Quidditch pitch, but she had a sense of belonging with this bunch and wanted to express her gratitude. "That certainly made me miss home a little less."

"Well sorry, but we can't be doing any more of that with you. We do want a chance at the cup this year," Dean replied smugly, then he clapped an arm around her shoulders and shook her playfully.

"Oi," a voice called out across the pitch. "Just because she doesn't know about your reputation yet doesn't mean you should mack on her while she's still oblivious."

Everyone's head whipped around, and the mood of the group immediately soured. Harry looked particularly perturbed.

"What do you want, Malfoy?"

"Pretty good flying, O'Malley," Draco said smoothly, ignoring Harry's question. "With a little training, maybe you _will _prove to have some use in Slytherin."

Kathleen reddened, angered at the backhanded compliment. This was the first that Malfoy had spoken to her, and she quickly decided that his infuriatingly smug smirk was a good representation of his actual disposition.

"What do you _want_?" Harry repeated, stepping forward. Malfoy brushed his elbow against Harry's chest, going past him and toward Kathleen.

"Easy, Potter," he tutted. "Always trying to start fights." He paused, his eyes flicking up and down Kathleen's body shamelessly. "Snape's asked me to collect O'Malley and take her to Dumbledore." He stared at Kathleen. "You certainly were a chore to find. I should have figured… flying about with Gryffindors…"

Kathleen's stomach dropped. _Dumbledore? _Why did the Headmaster want to see her? Was she being expelled already? She still longed to go home and be magic-free, but Nann would be furious, not to mention her parents…

Malfoy took her arm in his hand and guided her rather forcefully. "Come on, it's getting late."

Kathleen walked off the pitch quickly, too preoccupied with worry to remember to say goodbye to the Gryffindors.

They walked silently for a while, but Malfoy didn't release her arm. Kathleen wasn't sure if he hadn't realized or if he was intentionally trying to intimidate her, but either way, she was increasingly put off by him.

"Where did you come from?" he asked.

Kathleen turned to him, shaking his grip off in the process. "What are you talking about?"

He stared at her. "No one's ever heard of you and you just show up in your fifth year, barely able to brew a potion."

Kathleen glared at him. "You're not much into minding your own affairs, are you?"

He kept his eyes fixed forward, refusing to give away a hint of emotion. "Easy, pet. I'm just curious."

Kathleen frowned at him, unsure of what to make of the odd situation. "Look, I told you I was homeschooled. I'm sorry if that's not interesting enough for you."

Malfoy seemed satisfied with that answer for the moment and stopped in front of a large statue, then mumbled some words inaudibly. The statue jumped to life and leaped out of the way, revealing a winding staircase.

Wearily, Kathleen followed Malfoy up the staircase. She wasn't sure that she'd ever get used to magic.

Dumbledore was sitting calmly at an oversized wooden desk and motioned for her to sit. She glanced at Malfoy quickly for some sort of reassurance, but he just nodded in the direction of the chair. He was oddly stiff and his breathing had quickened just slightly, as if he was as terrified of the Headmaster as Kathleen was.

"Draco, if you could fetch Professor Snape while I have a word with Kathleen?" the Professor asked brightly. Malfoy nodded and disappeared without another word. Kathleen's stomach lurched again—despite her ambivalence towards Malfoy, she felt naked and vulnerable now that she was alone with the headmaster.

* * *

><p>He should have known better. Nothing was as simple as it used to be.<p>

He swore under his breath as he stalked towards the Slytherin common room for Snape. He _should _have found out who the hell she was before he had allowed an almost constant fantasy of fucking the life out of her play over and over again in his head. It was supposed to be so easy, a new girl with no knowledge of Hogwarts or his reputation as a womanizing bastard or, even worse, his close familiarity with the Dark Mark.

Instead, Kathleen O'Malley seemed to be a Gryffindor-lover with the magical prowess of a flobberworm. He could stand that she couldn't do magic—Pansy was about as intelligent as a sack of rocks and he had spent the night with her more than once—but the house was abuzz with whispers of the word _Mudblood _and _Squib_—two words that Draco Malfoy could _not _be associated with. He'd never hear the end of it, he'd lose respect, and if the news that he was sleeping with a Mudblood or someone without any magical powers at all reached his aunt Bealltrix's ears… he shuddered at the thought.

He knew that he should just let it go, but he didn't want to. He readily admitted that he was a spoiled brat, and he would be _damned _if he was denied something that he had his eye on. He had already planned out how he would take Kathleen—grabbing her by her strawberry blonde curls and ripping off her blouse so he could see that perfect body that she so rudely kept hidden from him… He wondered if he would find the freckles that flecked her cheeks elsewhere. She was just a girl, but her looks drove him mad, and there was something about her that had him intrigued. He felt like a child deprived of his favourite dessert.

_It wasn't fair._

Moreover, now that he felt that he wasn't allowed to have her, it just made her more attractive. Granted, if she was a Mudblood like everyone was saying, that would be the end of it—the thought of bedding a Mudblood was utterly repulsive, no matter how good-looking she was. He thought of Granger… Probably beautiful to the normal eye, but he couldn't see past her muggle birth status. But if she wasn't a Mudblood or Squib and she had just been homeschooled poorly, he would be able to work with it. He had more than enough influence in the Slytherin house to change the rumors from O'Malley being a Mudblood to O'Malley being thick as wood and having crap teaching from her parents.

Seeing Dumbledore sitting so contentedly and _alive_ at his desk had almost unraveled him, and it confirmed his need for a hefty distraction. If he couldn't keep his mind off of his task while for the few spare hours he wasn't slaving away at accomplishing it, there was no way he was going to be able to retain his sanity.

* * *

><p>"So," he said, leaning forward and folding his slender fingers together. Kathleen realized with a bit of a start that his fingers on one hand were badly bruised and burnt, but he acted as if he were unaware of it. "I've been hearing from some of the other Professors here that you're having some difficulties."<p>

Kathleen could feel sweat beading on the back of her neck. "Um, well yes, I suppose you could say that."

"Tell me, Miss McCormack"—he smiled kindly at Kathleen's agape mouth at him using her real last name—"yes, I am aware that you've chosen to register under a false name. Do your parents know that you're here?"

Kathleen stared at him, confused. She found it an exceedingly odd question, although it did signify that he knew about her parent's choice to live outside of the wizarding world. "Yes, of course they do."

Dumbledore seemed to relax a little. "As I'm sure you recall, we sent you an acceptance letter to Hogwarts when you were eleven years of age. Why did you choose now to attend?"

She shifted uncomfortably, trying to think of a lie that would fit with her parents acting like Muggles.

"Well," she lied, "my parents weren't keen on me learning magic then, but they realized that it wasn't fair for me to be kept from it, so they let my grandmother teach me when I was eleven and a half."

Dumbledore peered at her over his half-moon glasses and spoke in a tone that indicated he wasn't buying the story. "So Rosalind—your grandmother—taught you magic for four years."

She was beginning to feel lightheaded. Her grandmother had been an extremely accomplished witch, and the notion that she had taught Kathleen so poorly simply wasn't going to wash. "Well, it wasn't full time, my parents wanted me to stay in regular school as well you see, and—"

Dumbledore raised a hand gently to quiet her. His voice was warm. "This is not an interrogation, Miss McCormack, nor do you need to tell me tales. Under regular circumstances, I would likely make alternate arrangements for your schooling. However, if your parents have given their consent and you genuinely wish to learn magic, I truly believe that with the current climate of our world, Hogwarts is the safest place for young people to be and I would insist, if I may, that you stay."

Kathleen wasn't completely sure what he was talking about, but she nodded. She was relieved that despite cutting through her flimsy lies, he wasn't throwing her out.

"However," he continued, his tone more serious now, "it is clear that you simply are not at a level where you can continue in fifth-year classes. My suggestion would be that you join the fourth years and receive tutoring from one of your more experienced classmates… You will need to attend an eighth year of schooling, but I feel that's the best option in order for you to receive a proper education."

Kathleen didn't relish the prospect of an extra year doing something she hated, but it was probably better than infuriating her family. She knew that she'd have to learn magic either way and she'd rather do it here than alone at with Nann. Reluctantly, she nodded.

Dumbledore smiled. "Excellent. I'll inform Professor Snape and make the necessary arrangements."

As if on cue, Professor Snape trailed in with Malfoy following behind him in step. "You asked to see me, Headmaster?"

"Yes. You had brought Miss O'Malley's struggles to my attention earlier this week," he replied. Kathleen was relieved that he respected the use of her fake name—it wouldn't bode well for her if the Slytherins found out that she had been raised a muggle up until a year ago.

"Struggles would be an understatement," Snape murmured crisply. Kathleen was incredulous at his open rudeness.

Dumbledore continued as if Snape hadn't spoken. "Kathleen has informed me that her home-schooling was not full time due to other responsibilities, so we've determined together that her level is more suited to a fourth-year level. She may still need some additional assistance but I'm quite confident that she will otherwise be fine." He paused and looked to Malfoy, who blanched almost instantly. "Mr. Malfoy, perhaps you could assist your housemate? I daresay you're one of the more advanced wizards in Slytherin."

Kathleen's heart skipped a beat. She wasn't sure that she wanted to be spending any more time than she had to with Malfoy. He came off as anything but friendly and she sincerely doubted how helpful he would be.

"Headmaster," Snape protested, giving Dumbledore a hard stare, "I think you sincerely underestimate the _work _Malfoy has to undertake this year."

Dumbledore smiled kindly at Snape. "Of course, it is a heavy year for all students. But being that Draco is a prefect, I think it would be appropriate for him or Miss Parkinson to tutor Kathleen should she need it."

"With all due respect, I'm not sure Pansy would make the best teacher," Malfoy interjected, his voice smooth. He seemed to have regained some of his composure. "I can give her some pointers if she's having a hard time, I suppose."

Dumbledore gave a meaningful glance at Malfoy and nodded, although Kathleen couldn't catch exactly what he was trying to convey to Malfoy.

"Excellent," he whispered, drawing his hands from the wooden top of his desk and standing up. "Well, if I'm not mistaken, it's getting quite late. I'm going to retire for the night… I would suggest you might all do the same."


	3. Impulsive

Draco struggled to keep the smirk off his face as he directed Kathleen back to the common room. She was walking faster than he was, probably from leftover anxiety from being summoned to see the headmaster. He allowed himself to lose his attention to her strawberry blonde curls that bounced with every hurried step. She was still wearing tight sport leggings from playing Quidditch with the Gryffindor cronies that served to tease him by showing off her tantalizing bum and toned legs.

_Mine_, he thought devilishly. _It'll all be mine soon._

Something still wasn't sitting right with him, however. Confidently, he asked, "why didn't you just tell them?"

She spun around, confusion registering in her large green eyes. "Tell…?" she asked. Her cheeks were flushed, which only acted to accentuate her freckles.

"Tell them you were just behind," he answered matter-of-factly. His lip curled with the hint of a smile, his eyebrow raising up mockingly. "Everyone thought you were a Squib."

She scoffed at him and turned around indignantly. "Well, I didn't think that everyone would be scrutinizing my every move, now did I?" she snapped.

Draco watched her as she stalked forward, following casually behind her. Bickering was fine with him—nothing better than a healthy dose of spite to heat things up. He just had to ensure that he didn't push it too far and inspire hatred, especially with her hanging about with Gryffindors—they'd love nothing more than to prevent him from getting what he wanted, particularly if it was in the form of a female.

"A consequence of being new face," he replied clearly. "A very good looking one."

Again she turned around—he was beginning to enjoy seeing her emotions flash across her face before she managed to control them. She was gaping at him like a suspicious goldfish, so he continued smoothly. "Not to worry. You shouldn't have any trouble now."

She seemed a little speechless, but she nodded and continued on and her pace finally slowed. Finally, when they reached the portrait hole, she looked at him for a moment.

"Why's all that such a big deal for all of you? Being a Squib?"

Before he could answer, she continued on, her voice strong and unwavering.

"It seems unfair… downright pretentious, if you ask me."

Draco laughed softly and leaned into her, taking in her spicy scent and whispering so closely to her ear that he could feel the heat from her skin on his lips.

"Princess, you're going to have to learn that Slytherins don't like to play nice."

* * *

><p>"What're you bothering with all that for?" Dean asked incredulously. He plucked an apple from Kathleen's plate and replaced it with a heap of bacon.<p>

Kathleen wrinkled her nose and rerouted half of the pile of meat onto Dean's plate. "I like fruit. Forgive me for choosing not to be a gluttonous carnivore like you lot."

"Gets sorted into Slytherin and she thinks she's better than everyone else," Seamus muttered, but he laughed when Kathleen shoved him roughly.

"Speaking of which," Dean said (in a surprisingly thoughtful voice considering his mouth as stuffed full with fried egg), "what happened last night? You didn't get chucked out, I see."

Kathleen shrugged. "I've been kicked down a year," she sighed. "I'm not sure if that'll be good for my dwindling self-esteem or not, being with all of the fourteen year-olds—"

"Anything's better than making a fool of yourself for eight hours a day," Seamus interjected.

"So subtle and kind!" Kathleen snapped sarcastically, but she knew he was right. With any luck, she'd be able to keep up in classes from now on. She wasn't looking forward to being with younger students all day, but having the Gryffindors to come to outside of class time would make it bearable. It wasn't like she had made any friends in fifth year, anyway.

Seamus and Dean exchanged a smug look, and then there was a long pause while everyone munched away on their breakfast.

"Malfoy treating you okay?" Harry asked suddenly. He hadn't said anything yet that morning to Kathleen; he had been in an intense, hushed conversation with Ron and their friend Hermione near the end of the table. Ron looked at him uneasily, and Kathleen got the distinct feeling that everyone at the table knew something that she didn't.

"I suppose," she answered, purposely being ambiguous. She didn't know what to make of Malfoy, other than that he simultaneously gave her a bad feeling and made her legs turn to jelly. He played the role of resident bad-boy fairly well—he had an air of mystery about him and his shameless flirting was unfortunately very effective. She felt like she was on fire when she crawled into her bed last night, her ear tingling where his lips had almost brushed them.

But then again, his cocky attitude had all but melted away when they were in Dumbledore's office…

"He's bad news," Harry said vehemently, and Ron immediately pretended that he wasn't listening to what Harry was telling her, as if embarrassed by it.

"Well, I don't know about—"

"He is," Seamus agreed. "Biggest arse in our year. You'd do best to stay away from him if you can. Don't fall for his charm, even if he's laying it on thick."

"How well do you really know him, though?" she questioned. "I mean, sure, he seems like he probably likes having girls at his beck and call, but that doesn't necessarily mean he's all bad."

"That's not it!" Harry snapped. Kathleen stared at him in surprise, shocked at his sudden fury. She could feel Ron's leg moving to kick Harry's underneath the table, at which point Harry promptly shut his mouth, although his eyes were full of resentment. Kathleen was about to question what the kick was all about when she felt a hand clamp onto her shoulder.

"Well, speak of the devil," muttered Hermione.

"Look, Granger," he drawled, "I understand that anyone can appreciate my good looks, but I'd appreciate if you didn't discuss your fantasies about me with everyone else. It's embarrassing."

Hermione scowled at him, but didn't bother to reply.

Kathleen looked up at him, noticing that his grip was a little bit too tight. "Yes, Malfoy?"

He tutted. "Calling me Malfoy as if I'm an enemy already? You really do need to keep away from this lot." He paused and looked at Harry, but when he continued, his voice wasn't nearly so venomous. "I was just wondering if you'd come to eat with us. You're so elusive that it's hard for anyone to get to know you…" He gave a small, tight smile. "We don't bite, you know."

Kathleen wasn't sure what he was playing at since he had told her almost the exact opposite the night before, but he had expertly stuck her between a rock and a hard place. She would have much preferred to stay at the Gryffindor table, but if she didn't follow him, she was basically inviting hatred from the Slytherins. She looked around nervously, but Seamus gave a half-nod that indicated to her that he understood she needed to leave. She sighed and stood up, said a quick goodbye and walked beside Malfoy.

He was walking at a relaxed pace, his hands shoved into his pockets. He spoke softly, his eyes fixed forward into space. "Look, O'Malley, I know what they're saying about me."

Kathleen held her breath. "It's none of my business—"

"Damn right it's not," he replied, a lash of anger in his words. "But Potter has a long-standing grudge against me that he's not willing to let go of. I haven't been a Saint to him, but…" He raked his fingers through his hair slowly and licked his lips. "His opinion of me is quite _coloured._"

"He does seem to want to steer clear of you," she replied indifferently. Truth be told, she wasn't interested in getting in the middle of Harry and Malfoy's squabble with one another. She had enough on her plate, what with the Slytherins silently begrudging her and her academic career in the toilet.

"I just want you to be wary of the rumours that fly around in this school." He paused and smirked a little. "I won't try to pretend that I'm some goody-goody, but even _I _can't live up to the stories they make up for me."

* * *

><p>Draco stared into the flickering fire, trying to empty his mind. He had spent the entire evening on that damn Cabinet—he even missed dinner—and felt as if he was at the exact same place as when he'd started. He viciously wrenched the top off of his flask and allowed the wonderfully smoky and bitter firewhiskey to slide down his throat.<p>

"Hey, if you're going to break that out, you'd better be sharing," Blaise warned. Draco tossed him the flask and he took a generous drink as well. "Tough semester this time, eh?"

Draco nodded wordlessly. It was true—their class work was becoming incredibly advanced, but he barely noticed. His thoughts were occupied elsewhere. He prayed that his grades wouldn't start slipping, especially to the point where the old crackpot might start noticing…

Kathleen entered in through the portrait hole, evidently having been out—probably with Finnigan and Thomas.

"I heard you managed to _accio _pillows today," Blaise called loudly. "Turns out you have got some magic in you!"

"Of course she does," Theodore muttered. "Can't believe you all thought they'd actually let a Squib into Hogwarts…"

"Well, apparently if you ever need to summon lightweight objects, I'm your girl," Kathleen replied thickly, though Draco could tell that she was trying to contain her pleasure at the positive response. She smiled politely and trailed up to her dormitory. Draco didn't even bother to hide that he was watching her all the way up the stairs.

Through some quick damage control, he had managed to ensure that the rumors about Kathleen were effectively quashed. He could now proceed as he pleased, and he hoped it to be sooner rather than later. He was afraid that if he let too much time pass by, Finnigan or Thomas would snatch her up from under his nose, and that would be more of an inconvenience than he had time to deal with.

"Pretty, isn't she, Drake?" Pansy asked softly, but her tone was dangerous. She had noticed the attention that he had been paying to Kathleen and she obviously wasn't too keen on it. In fact, Pansy had taken to loathing _any _girl that Draco came into contact with, which was becoming exasperating to say the least.

"Give it a rest, Pansy," he replied venomously.

"You know, she seems like an okay girl," Daphne commented. "It wouldn't kill you to have another girlfriend who's not me."

Pansy looked daggers at Daphne, but Daphne shrugged indifferently, as if to say _'it's true!'_

Though Draco didn't find himself overly attracted to Daphne, he really appreciated that in the past couple of years she had chosen not to engage in all the drama that Pansy and the others brought into the common room. She had certainly helped him get Parkinson off his back more than once.

Luckily, the conversation quickly drifted onto the new lover that Blaise's mother had procured and Draco didn't have to deal with Pansy any longer, though she continued to pout and glare at him. His thoughts began to wander as the other Slytherins chatted fervently. He needed to finish all of his Potions _and _DADA homework by Monday, and he planned to have the Quidditch team tryouts on Saturday, _then_ he was supposed to do Occlumency with his aunt on Sunday… He suddenly realized that he was clenching his fists so hard that they were turning white.

He immediately stood and faked a yawn. "Dunno about you lot, but I'm exhausted," he said before quickly retreating into his dormitory. He yanked the curtains around his four poster shut and put his head between his knees, pulling at his hair angrily.

_I'm never going to be able to survive through all this_.

* * *

><p>Kathleen pulled on the Quidditch boots that Seamus had borrowed from his mother. She noticed that the leather was a bit worn, but they would work. Then she scooped up her hair into a high ponytail and pulled her gloves on. Her heart was racing, but out of excitement rather than fear.<p>

She stepped out onto the pitch where over a dozen other Slytherins were waiting anxiously. She saw no sign of Malfoy, the team captain, but Blaise and Daphne were off to the side stretching.

"Hey, look who's trying out!" Daphne called, an impressed look on her face.

Kathleen beamed and trotted over. "Have you both played on the team before?"

Blaise nodded, but Daphne shook her head.

"She's tried out every year," Blaise said smugly.

"Well, forgive me for wanting to have a bit of fun!" Daphne growled. "Athletics aren't my strong suit. Blaise has kindly told me that I should stick to transfiguration, but how can you not enjoy Quidditch?"

"How would you know?" Blaise asked, laughing. Kathleen was about to inquire about what she would have to do during the tryouts, but she was interrupted by the sharp tone of a whistle.

"In line!" Malfoy barked. They all obeyed immediately, and Kathleen noticed that Malfoy seemed to be relishing being in charge. He walked up and down the line, scrutinizing every person on the pitch slowly before he continued. "Before we start on our brooms, I want you all to run two laps around the pitch. _Now_."

There was an audible groan from the Quidditch hopefuls before they broke into a trot together. Kathleen, however, was unsatisfied with the pace and revved up to a slow sprint. Blaise quickly caught up to her, a knowing grin playing on his face.

"I wouldn't try showing off to Draco, O'Malley," he warned. "He's not easily impressed and you're just gonna wear yourself out."

Kathleen smiled devilishly and continued running. Unlike most of the rest of the team, Kathleen almost constantly played football and ran long distance track back at home. The sprint wouldn't tire her out—almost the opposite; she needed it to burn off all of the excess energy that she had from being pent up in a classroom all week.

Kathleen had obviously ignited Blaise's competitive side, as he was stride for stride with Kathleen and put out a burst of speed at the very end to ensure that he would come in first. He was panting heavily as she slowed to a halt.

Malfoy looked her up and down suspiciously, but said nothing. She gave Blaise a hard pat on the back before taking a swig from her water bottle and mopping the sweat from her forehead with her t-shirt.

"Got some legs on you, O'Malley," Malfoy said hungrily, but his voice was so quiet that Kathleen barely heard him. She looked over in surprise—his eyes were fixed on her wolfishly.

The rest of the Slytherins eventually trickled in—Daphne proudly holding up the rear—and Malfoy ordered them into the air.

He spent the next three gruelling hours shouting commands at them (with the exception of Daphne, whom he sent off the pitch after ten minutes), sending them through obstacles and doing a number of practice plays. Kathleen felt that she was keeping up extremely well—she had scored the most points of all the wannabe Chasers and she even managed to keep the Quaffle secured when Goyle accidentally whacked a bludger directly into her left shoulder. When they finally touched down, she was completely exhausted.

"Right," Malfoy shouted to the crowd. "I think I've seen all I need to see. I'll be posting the team list in a couple of days." He looked at Kathleen and frowned slightly. "I won't take any complaints about the roster."

She felt her stomach drop, but she told herself that Malfoy was just toying with her. There was no _way _she hadn't gotten on the team…

They broke away into the showers, with Kathleen being the only one to head to the girls' side since Daphne had been kicked out two hours before. She gratefully stripped her clothes off and hopped into the hot shower, allowing the hard stream of water to massage her screaming muscles. She squirted a generous amount of her cinnamon-scented body wash onto a loofah sponge and scrubbed away the sweat and dirt that had accumulated on her skin during the tryout. Finally, once she felt completely scoured and clean, she grabbed her towel before stepping out of the shower stall.

Almost immediately, she felt a pair of lips crashing onto hers. She was so surprised that for a moment she did nothing as the intruder's teeth bit down hungrily on her bottom lip and his tongue snaked between her lips.

For a moment, Kathleen's brain was empty and she melted into him as he pinned her against the stall and ground his pelvis into hers. Quickly, however, she came to her senses and stepped back, which caused her to crash messily onto the floor.

"Christ!" she shrieked.

Malfoy was looking down at her, an expression somewhere between amusement and arousal on his face. He said nothing, only offered her a hand and pulled her up to her feet.

"Don't you—" Kathleen stuttered, staring at him in bewilderment and panting—"don't you knock? Or, like, wait, or something?"

"Cat got your tongue, O'Malley?" he murmured, smirking.

"What—you—want?" she stammered, her head spinning.

Malfoy was clearly enjoying having rattled her so much. His eyes were twinkling like Kathleen had never seen them.

"Just wanted to let you know you're on the team," he replied smoothly, then turned and walked slowly towards the door.

"Right," she gasped dumbly, still goggling at him. As he was opening the door to leave, she shouted, "couldn't you have just waited until we were back in the common room?"

He turned and grinned mischievously at her. "Of course I could have," he replied before gliding out of the changeroom.


	4. Danger

_The nerve!_

Attacking her right out of the shower like that! _What if I hadn't grabbed my towel before stepping out? _She wondered furiously, to which she quickly replied to herself, _that's probably exactly what he wanted._ Her lips were still stinging from where he had bitten them. She ran over them with her tongue—they were a bit swollen, but probably not enough for anyone to notice.

_Who the _hell _did he think he was?_

Kathleen readily admitted to herself that she found Malfoy attractive, and she may have even be willing to concede that she _had _wondered if he would be a good kisser—which he was. But she was infuriated that he had pulled a power move on her, trying to assert himself as the alpha male… as if he could just _own _her, without learning anything more than her name. She had been so caught off guard that she wasn't even able to string a sentence together—another power move on his part. She viciously stuffed her sweater into her rucksack and stomped back up to the castle, hoping that she could run into Malfoy and set his arrogant arse straight.

_He thinks he's got the bloody world wrapped around his finger_. She trailed up the stairs to where Seamus and Dean said to meet her, by the suit of armour that scares people as they walk by. As promised, they were waiting for her, but with smirks on their faces that didn't match up with her foul mood. As soon as Dean saw her face, though, his smile immediately dropped.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," he said, walking up to Kathleen as she stalked towards them. "Are you okay? What happened?"

"You can't tell me they didn't let you on the team!" Seamus exclaimed angrily.

She shook her head. "I'm on the team. It's just…" For some reason, she didn't want to share the details of the kiss with Malfoy. She sighed and forced herself to calm down a little. "They're just prats."

Dean let out a deep laugh which took Kathleen by surprised. She eyed him suspiciously. "Something funny about that, Dean?"

"God, I thought you were going to tell us that you'd gotten detention with Snape or something," he replied. When she threw a dirty look at him, he added defensively, "well, of course they're prats! That's common knowledge, isn't it?"

Again, she sighed. "Look, I just want to forget about it, all right?" She paused and then looked up at the two of them. "What do you all do around here for fun?"

Dean frowned. "Kath, we have to be in our dormitories in half an hour. We came to see if you got on the team, remember?"

But Kathleen wasn't going to give up so easily. At home, she spent many of her nights sneaking out through her bedroom window—not to rebel against her parents, but to have late-night conversations near the river, a midnight game of footie in the field, anything. She was brimming with energy and curiosity and she wasn't planning on letting Hogwarts suck the fun out of her.

"Since when are you all high and mighty on the rules?" Kathleen asked mockingly.

"Look," Seamus said seriously, "usually, yes, of course… but things are different this year, you know that."

"No, I don't actually," Kathleen retorted, her voice tinged with annoyance.

Dean and Seamus stared at her in disbelief for a moment before either one spoke.

"Come on, Kathleen, you heard Dumbledore at the feast," Dean whispered.

"I had no idea what he was going on about, so I just stopped listening," she replied uneasily, feeling like she had been purposely kept from knowing important information.

"Your grandmother sent you here without even _mentioning_ You-Know-Who to you?" Seamus demanded, his brows furrowed in anger.

"Well, she mentioned him," Kathleen muttered uncomfortably, "I know who he is, obviously. And she said that people have been bugged out about it lately, but she said it wasn't anything I needed to worry about—"

"_Nothing to worry about?_" Seamus barked, his tone vicious. His face was red with anger, and Kathleen felt fear squirming in her stomach—she had never seen him like this. "Kathleen—you-know-who—_Voldemort…_" The corners of Dean's mouth twitched, but he said nothing. "Is the most powerful and most _evil _wizard to have ever lived, and he's back, trying to gain powers and kill the muggle-borns!"

Kathleen gaped at him. She had no idea, and she felt embarrassed that she had been oblivious to such critical knowledge. Sheepishly, she said, "are you sure?"

Seamus nodded gravely. Dean looked at his feet, obviously upset by the conversation.

"That's why we're not supposed to stay out after hours. That's why security's been so tight."

Kathleen nodded numbly, trying to absorb what she had just been told. Why had her grandmother downplayed You-Know-Who so much to her? She had specifically asked why people were panicked about it, and her grandmother just kept assuring her that everyone was overreacting, and so long as she went to Hogwarts, she wouldn't need to think twice about it.

"Look…" Kathleen said quietly and apologetically, "I didn't know. I'm sorry."

Seamus' eyes softened. "It's not your fault, Kath. I just can't believe your grandmother didn't warn you. It just seems reckless."

"Dangerous, more like," Dean agreed.

Usually Kathleen would have snapped back at someone for insulting her grandmother—despite Nann's stubbornness, Kathleen had been brought up to have a great deal of respect for her. This time, though, she couldn't help but feel angry at Nann for keeping her ignorant of what was happening.

"Hey," Dean said, obviously trying to lighten the heavy mood that had set over them, "doesn't mean that we can't have any fun though. Why don't you come up to the dormitory for a few minutes and we'll walk you back when it's time?"

Kathleen nodded and followed behind them. The other Gryffindors were surprised to see a Slytherin in their common room, but they seemed generally indifferent to her presence after a few minutes. As soon as they sat by the fire and began chatting, the bad feelings of the earlier conversation melted away. They kept talking and messing around with trinkets from the Weasley's joke shop far after Kathleen should have left. Seamus kept saying that they should get going, but Kathleen always managed to quickly change the subject, anxious to stay as long as she could. It wasn't that she wasn't taking their words about You-Know-Who seriously—she was—but she was feeling vulnerable and wanted their company, and she figured that if the world was supposedly going to hell in a hand basket, she should try to enjoy herself.

Finally, after midnight, Dean put his foot down and said they had to walk Kathleen back.

"You stay here," Kathleen insisted, "I don't want you two getting caught. If Filch sees me, I'll just tell him I fell asleep in an empty classroom studying."

"It's not safe to be wandering around!" Seamus protested. Kathleen rolled her eyes.

"Fine, I'll wake up McGonagall and tell her the same story and get her to walk me back, happy?" She replied in exasperation. She had no intention of actually doing that, but she knew that would satisfy the pair. They bought the story and she watched them walk up the stairs to their dormitory, exhausted.

She regretted her decision about halfway to the Slytherin common room. Nothing actually happened, but the noises of the ancient castle were enough to frighten her and realize that she'd made a stupid decision. She got to the common room as quickly as she could without making a racket, and luckily managed to keep from getting caught.

She crept through the portrait hole quietly and immediately noticed that the fire was still burning brightly in the hearth. She almost thought she had seen a face in it, but… no, that couldn't be right. She turned her gaze to the couches, where she saw the familiar blonde-haired Slytherin gazing into the fire. Suddenly remembering the locker room fiasco, she swelled with anger and was prepared to tear a strip off of Malfoy. She was halfway to the couch when she stopped and slipped behind a pillar to watch him.

Malfoy didn't look quite right… His shoulders were slumped and his eyes were extremely red with huge, unmistakable bags settled underneath them.

"I can't do this," he said softly. He buried his head between his knees and pulled at his hair.

Suddenly, as if he had a sixth sense, he jerked his head up. "Who's there?" he demanded angrily, viciously shutting the mesh metal curtains over the fire. "I'll have you suspended for being out of bed this late!" he cried.

Kathleen gulped and stepped out from behind the pillar.

His demeanour immediately changed—at once he was standing up straight again, a cocky smirk on his face. His eyes still looked tired, though, so tired.

"Tsk, tsk, O'Malley," he said teasingly, "out gallivanting with the boys? Seems like you're just trying for an excuse to get detention with me."

Kathleen looked at him seriously, trying to keep the concern out of her eyes. "Draco, are you okay?" she asked quietly.

He laughed at her and acted as though he were taken aback. "What, me? Of course, what are you asking that for?"

Before she could reply, he quickly continued, "get that beautiful ass of yours up to bed before I take you there myself."

Kathleen said nothing, just stared at him for a moment before turning around and quietly heading up the stairs.

"Good girl," he whispered, staring into nothingness.

* * *

><p>"<em>Shit!" <em>Draco muttered to himself. That would be the second time today he had majorly tripped up. He ripped a scrap of parchment from a stray roll and scribbled hastily,

_Mum,_

_Sorry about having to cut the conversation short, someone came into the common room—didn't want them to overhear._

_Anyway, feeling much better now, don't worry about what I said, just very tired. I'm making progress, I'll get it done, I promise. Things will be back to normal soon._

_-D_

He made a mental note to head to the owlry tomorrow morning before breakfast. He cursed himself for even hinting to his mother that he was feeling overwhelmed—now with him having to put out the fire without warning because of O'Malley, no doubt she'd be worried out of her mind. She already was and he shouldn't have given into her pleas to tell her how he was really thinking. He should have lied, he was damn well good enough at it, and given his mother some of the peace that she deserved.

Furthermore, he'd let O'Malley see him at his most vulnerable. He prayed that she hadn't noticed his red-rimmed eyes, but he knew that she had. Why else would she have asked him how he was, as if she was actually concerned about the prick that had stolen a kiss from her while she was practically naked?

That was the first mistake he had made today—his lust had gotten the best of him during Quidditch tryouts. Watching the girl weave around on the pitch gracefully but with such fierce determination to be taken seriously had made him painfully aroused. Not to mention her hair spilling in every direction and the wonderful, tight outfit that showcased her slight but toned figure.

It was impulsive. It was too soon. It was messy.

The kiss had been almost everything he'd hoped for, except that he had half-expected that she would shed her towel and mount him right there on the bathroom floor—but that was his blind lust talking, not his brain. She had beautiful, soft lips, and she struggled just ever so slightly at first, but he could feel her unmistakably melting into him as he ground up against her… for a split second at least. Then, of course, her brain had kicked in—most unfortunately, in his opinion—and the moment had to end.

All was not lost, however. He had seen it in her stunned eyes when she stared at him—she was pissed, yes, but he _had _her. Though he had acted prematurely, the Gryffindors had sketched him so perfectly as the bad boy, the asshole that was too good for anyone; he could see that O'Malley liked bending the rules, she'd do anything to have her bit of fun, and violating her privacy like that had excited her. She was in denial now, but he assured himself that she would be at his beck and call from now on. It was the same with every girl—Pansy, Astoria, Cho Chang (that one was only to get back at Potter, of course)—he laid on the charm and then made his move, aggressively. Every time, they acted like they weren't interested, as if they were affronted by his blatant sexual aggression… For a split second. Then they were hopelessly devoted to him. They'd come to bed with him, do his homework, give up their first born child for a chance to try to win his affections. They never would, though. He'd treat them like the spineless slags that they were, and his coldness towards them only seemed to fuel their need for him to love them.

He wondered if he'd get bored with O'Malley, like he had with the others. The chase was always fun, and of course the sex was enjoyable. But after a while, they always seemed to get clingy and teary. Though he loved being worshipped, it always felt hollow after a few weeks. Then he'd dump them and start over again. Granted, O'Malley was the most attractive girl in his opinion, and maybe she'd have enough of a personality to keep him interested through the year.

Draco stripped off his shirt and lay on top of his covers, staring blankly at his ceiling. Even if O'Malley didn't have a personality, he'd be so preoccupied that she'd probably be enough for him until the end of term, and after that, nothing really mattered anyway.

* * *

><p>Something was wrong.<p>

When he had come back from the owlry after breakfast, everyone was sitting in the common room. O'Malley was sitting next to Daphne, chatting happily about something trivial like how boring Professor Binns always was. But when he had entered the room, the way that O'Malley looked at him wasn't right. The longing and desperation that he was so used to wasn't there—she almost seemed _wary _of him.

When he complimented her shamelessly, she just gave a friendly reply, as if they were _just _housemates—not as if they had shared a kiss in the showers the night before.

This annoyed him. He wasn't used to working hard for what he got and he certainly didn't like it. He was so wrapped up in his own frustration that he didn't notice that Pansy, who usually avoided Goyle like the plague, was now having a hushed conversation with him while stealing darting glances at Kathleen.

* * *

><p>Classes were becoming easier, but she was considerably better at the ones that had similarities to the muggle world—herbology was like gardening and potions was a bit like chemistry. However, in the more strictly magic classes (particularly transfiguration), she was still barely passing her assignments.<p>

She met up with Seamus and Dean again after classes in the library. Despite Dumbledore's suggestion, she thought it best not to receive tutoring from Malfoy just yet. He seemed dangerously bipolar, with moods from one end of the spectrum to the other in a split-second. There was obviously more to him than he exposed on the surface, and she wanted to find out just what that was before she put herself in a situation where they'd be alone together. She was put off by his boorish behaviour, but at the same time, she refused to believe that all there was to him was arrogance.

When she shared this thought, however, her friends didn't seem to agree.

"Look," Seamus said seriously, "Malfoy is not only a cocky prat, he's _dangerous_. I want you to stay away from him, alright?"

"I just think that none of you probably know who he _really _is, he can't be that shallow—"

"There's a reason none of us has found out who he really is!" Seamus growled, allowing his voice to raise more than he probably intended. "It's because below the surface, things only get worse. He's involved in bad things, Kath, the kind that we talked about last night."

Kathleen immediately dropped the subject, not wanting to infuriate herself or Seamus even more. She knew that Malfoy had his bad qualities, but she seriously doubted he was actually involved in anything so serious. However, she realized with a twinge of guilt that she wouldn't care so much about defending Malfoy if she wasn't so attracted to him—she was acting as if they were doing him a great injustice, but she knew deep down that if he didn't make her knees weak, she probably would have adopted their hatred of him readily. Seamus was still visibly agitated.

"I think I'm going to go write a letter to my parents," she announced, standing up. It was about an hour until dinner and she was aching for a bit of alone time to relax. Seamus grabbed her hand as she stood and stared at her seriously.

"I know I can't tell you what to do," he started, "but please, _please _don't get involved with Malfoy."

Kathleen didn't know how to answer him—she wished that she could make that promise to him, but she wasn't entirely sure she could keep it. She was curious now, and she felt like if she didn't figure out the Malfoy mystery she'd never be satisfied.

"You don't need to worry about me, Seamus," she replied quietly before sweeping out of the library and heading back to the common room. She hoped that it would be empty—dinner would be starting soon, so everyone should be elsewhere. She wanted to be alone.

She realized with a sudden pang of sadness that she missed her parents, she missed her home.

Everything was so complicated here. So many rules, so many stupid prejudices for no reason. She wanted to go back home to her carefree life where she had good grades and she didn't have to look over her shoulder and she did things with her _own hands_, not by waving some stupid stick around. She hated magic for ripping her from her life, and even though she knew deep down that the new problems You-Know-Who would have affected her whether or not she had been sent to Hogwarts, she still felt a burning resentment for it.

She knew that she was being bitter. Apparently, her parents had suddenly seen the wonders of magic, why couldn't she? Apart from Quidditch, Kathleen thought magic could rot. It could be entertaining, fine, but as far as she saw it, magic was just a different way of living life. People were allowed to be Jewish if that's what they liked, or Christian if that suited them instead. She clenched her fists angrily, wondering why her grandmother couldn't have just let her live her life the way she had wanted.

* * *

><p>"So are you finding classes a bit easier, then?" Blaise asked conversationally over dinner.<p>

Before she could reply, Malfoy cut in. "Speaking of which, Professor Snape spoke to me today. Apparently we need to start those tutoring lessons _now_."

Kathleen flushed with embarrassment and glared at Malfoy. "Thanks for being a royal git. I don't think the Hufflepuffs heard how poor I'm doing in Defense Against the Dark Arts, though!"

Malfoy laughed and scooped a serving of mashed potatoes onto Kathleen's plate that she didn't ask for. "Don't worry, love, after a session with me you'll be top of the class," he assured smoothly. He motioned toward the helping he had put in front of her. "Eat that. You're picking at your food like a bloody bird, and I need you to be in top form for Quidditch."

Kathleen rolled her eyes and shoved a forkful of potato into her mouth before pushing the almost full plate away. She knew the gesture wasn't out of care for her wellbeing, but it was just another move to remind her that he had power over her and he felt like she should obey. She wasn't in the mood to play his game tonight.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow at her, his expression one of annoyance and displeasure. "Suit yourself, then," he said coldly. "I expect you to meet me at 8 A.M. Saturday for your lessons." He articulated his next words clearly, emphasizing each syllable. "Don't be late."


	5. Moody

"_Kath,_

_So proud of you! Our daughter, a witch at Hogwarts—I know that we never thought this was how it would be, but now that you're there, we know that it was the right decision for you. I know it's difficult for you right now, but we have no doubt that in time you'll show just as much talent as your Nann, from what she tells us, the Professors say that you're a natural considering when you started!_

_As for what your friends say about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, listen to Nann. There are a lot of rumours flying around, and while he is not someone to be trifled with, don't worry about your safety, sweetie. Hogwarts is safe, and Nann would never let you be in danger, no matter what._

_Love you,_

_M & D_

_xxx"_

Kathleen stared at the piece of paper, frowning. Finally, the owl that had delivered the note to her had gone from impatient to vicious and nipped a chunk of skin from her finger.

She cried out in equal measures of pain and annoyance and glared at the bird. Angrily, she retrieved a few owl treats from the depths of her robe and chucked them in its direction.

"Bloody thing," she muttered as the grey owl fluttered off while greedily swallowing its reward. She fleetingly thought of rereading the letter for the fourth time, but she resigned to tucking it into her book bag, knowing that there was nothing more to glean from the words.

The handwriting was unmistakably her mothers, but her response couldn't have been more odd. She had written several pages of long-winded complaints about Hogwarts, most particularly about Nann's glossing over Voldemort. She had written the letter out of loneliness, hoping for a witty reply from her parents, who perhaps understood her better than anyone. She wanted someone to understand that it was painful for her to be plunged into a world that was in so much chaos compared to her own. Perhaps more than anything, she wanted to feel close to her parents again, who she now hadn't seen for several months and wouldn't see until Christmas.

Instead of comfort, her parents had ignored ninety percent of what she had said, and even more, they acted as if she had sent them a note saying the opposite that she did. Why were her parents suddenly so on board with Nann about her attending Hogwarts? What was it that everyone was keeping from her? If her parents had had some religious epiphany and decided that magic was _the_way, they had certainly not shared the source of their wisdom with her.

"Love letter?" Blaise asked playfully after draining his goblet of pumpkin juice. He was the only one to join her at the Slytherin table so early—no one was going to eat breakfast at 7:30 on a Saturday if they didn't have to.

Kathleen eyed him and smiled weakly, choosing to answer with honesty… of sorts.

"No, just the opposite," she replied lightly, standing up and not daring to look at him for fear of interrogation. "Rejection. Turns out they don't feel the same way as I do."

She quickly strode out of the Great Hall, ignoring Blaise calling her name questioningly.

* * *

><p>Draco rubbed his face tiredly, and glanced at the clock tower through the stained-glass window. 7:58… any minute now.<p>

He had never felt so old in his life. It felt like his muscles were wasting, and his bones were screaming with exhaustion. When had he slept last? He'd spent the past seven hours on that damned cabinet, and he couldn't clearly recall if he had made it to bed the night before, either.

Draco cursed himself for listening so intently to the needs of his lust, while blithely ignoring what he was _really _supposed to focus on—killing the old man and saving his family. A life of being spoiled had marred his sense of duty; his want for an attractive bedmate was clouding his mind and his logic. _Why had he agreed to tutor O'Malley? _He had few things left in excess since his father had been sent to Azkaban, and time certainly wasn't one of them.

"The fuck is _wrong _with you," he murmured, massaging his forehead.

"Whoa, now!" Kathleen protested in surprise. "I'm on time, asshole!"

Draco jerked his head up suddenly and inhaled sharply. He took a couple of moments to get his footing. "I didn't… Didn't hear you come in."

Kathleen eyed him suspiciously as she unceremoniously dropped her book bag onto an empty chair. "You seem to have a habit of talking to yourself."

He ignored this and smoothed back his hair, trying to retain some air of confidence in the hope that she would back off and stop talking to him. He pulled out Kathleen's Defense Against the Dark Arts from her satchel and opened it on her desk. "Read chapters two and three, then I'll quiz you, and if you feel like you've gotten the concepts, I might let you try some of the spells," he instructed, then turned to a roll of parchment on the table and began to write out his transfiguration paper.

Kathleen stared at him. "But…" she began, and waited for him to respond. When he didn't, she yanked the parchment from under his palms. _"Hey!_"

His eyes flashed with fury as he looked up at her. "_What, _O'Malley?"

She stood defiantly in front of him, anger burning equally in her emerald eyes. Her long red curls formed a wild mane past her shoulders, and he was fleetingly reminded of the Gryffindor lion as he glared at her.

"I don't know who put a bee in your bonnet this morning, but don't take it out on me!" she snapped. "I thought we were going to be doing spellwork! I can read my texts in the library without your help!"

He wasn't sure if it was his exhaustion or the fact that this girl that he found so attractive was trying to berate him, but he let venom flow freely in his words. "Look, O'Malley, I'm tired and I'm behind and it's not my damn fault that you're rubbish at magic. Like I said, _if _you can master the concepts, I'll consider letting you try some of them out!"

Kathleen pursed her lips so tightly that Draco wondered whether or not she thought fire would erupt from her mouth if she opened it. With the expression on her face, he wouldn't doubt it. To his surprise, she said nothing and sat down roughly into her desk and began studying her book without another word.

He stared at her for a few moments before returning to his homework. He needed to finish it _today_, otherwise McGonagall would slap him with detention for sure. He was finding that he couldn't concentrate now, though; the snarling words between him and Kathleen had served to wake him up, but he couldn't ignore a small knot of uneasiness that had coiled itself somewhere in his stomach. He found himself looking at her as she read the passages, and watched the anger melt away into concentration as she scanned through the chapters.

He knew that he had been short with her, but it wasn't like O'Malley to be so touchy. She had a short temper, sure, but usually she kept things light-hearted. Today, however, Draco could feel tension hanging in the air like a noxious gas, and not knowing what was going on in O'Malley's head was choking him.

"You're staring," she said without looking up.

"Can't help it," he replied in what he meant to be a confident tone, but it came out softly.

She looked up sharply, her eyes ablaze. "What, so you've got time to mack on me, but no time to help me? Classy, Draco, real nice," she hissed before returning to her book and turning so that her back was facing him.

He was taken aback by the brutally honest words, and he found himself temporarily dumbstruck. Once he found his voice, though, he decided it would be better not to use it. He began scribbling down the properties of vanishment in transfiguration, occasionally glancing up at Kathleen, who showed no interest in speaking to him. Just a few more paragraphs, then maybe he could appease O'Malley with a few spells back and forth, maybe after take a fifteen-minute nap before getting back to the cabinet, he needed to get back to the cabinet…

When he opened his eyes, Kathleen was facing him again, her legs folded cross-legged on her chair and a new textbook sitting in her lap. She looked up at him, her eyes twinkling like they usually did, and smiled.

"Morning," she said slyly.

He cursed and rubbed his face quickly. "How long was I asleep?"

Kathleen shrugged. "'Bout two and a half hours. You were sleeping like a log. Late night?"

He scrambled through his papers, cursing again. "Fuck! We won't have time to do any spellwork, I really have to finish this paper—"

"I did it," Kathleen replied calmly. "I got bored."

Draco stared at her incredulously. "You can't even keep up in your _own_ transfiguration—"

"It's all straight from your textbook if you would just _read_ it," she replied, slightly annoyed. She surveyed him questioningly. "What's up with you, anyway?"

"I don't know what you mean," he replied coolly. He was rapidly trying to come up with an excuse for his odd behaviour, but nothing was coming to him and O'Malley was damn nosy. He tried to steer the conversation away. "Well, er, thanks for writing up the report. Better than nothing, I suppose. Do you want to practice your spells now?"

Kathleen ignored the insult and shook her head. "Could we do it outside? Sun's out and I'm tired of being cooped up in here."

Draco could think of nothing that he wanted to do less than be out in the grounds and being reminded of the leisure time he could be having while the warm rays of the sun tried to coax him to nap just a little bit longer. He shook his head and simply said, "no. Get your wand out."

She stood, but didn't get her wand. Instead, she headed towards the door. "Come on!" she begged. "I'm not staying in here any longer, even if you're willing to tutor me now. You can join me or stay in the dungeons."

She turned on her heel and trailed away. Since it was a Saturday, she was wearing Muggle clothing, including a pair of wonderfully snug jeans and a light sweater that showed her curves without giving away too much. He sat there stubbornly for a few moments, hesitated, then stalked after her.

* * *

><p>Finally, Kathleen tossed her wand aside. "Can we give it a rest?"<p>

"Do you want to get better or not, O'Malley?" Draco snarled, his impatience at an all-time high from his exhaustion and hunger. He had been ruthlessly throwing spells at her so she would have to block them, but her success rate was less than half of the time. He seemed to be taking his pent-up frustration out on her, though he knew somewhere deep down that he shouldn't be. Her tenaciousness up until this point only seemed to fuel him, and something inside him wanted to crush her, to make her beg him to stop, to admit that he had outdone her.

"Oh, quit being such an ass!" she snapped. "You're going way too fast for me and you know it! There's no way I could block those spells!" Kathleen barked. She glared at him, then kicked off her shoes. "Do me a favour and piss off. I've tried to be kind to you, Malfoy, I've tried to help you with whatever it is that's caused your head to be so _far _lodged up your arse and I'm tired of your attitude!"

He said nothing as she walked into the lake barefoot and began skipping rocks as far as she possibly could, apparently to burn off some of the anger that he had caused. His heart was hammering in his chest. He wasn't used to being told off - except maybe by Potter - and he was none too fond of it, particularly since he knew that she was telling the truth. He had seriously misjudged this girl, thinking that she was some dumb slag that he was going to fuck and shrug off, but instead, she actually had a semblance of a brainstem and a _backbone, _yet he found her no less tantalizing than he had the first time he set eyes on her.

He stalked behind her, with every intention of drawing out the argument and convincing her that she was the one being a prat. When she turned, however, her eyes blazing and her lips parted, his brain shut down and something else took over.

He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her urgently, but without roughness. He pulled her into him, begging for her body to be against his, and he took in her scent as his fingers raked through her hair.

She resisted the kiss in equal measures to his need for it. She shoved him swiftly away, causing him to stumble backwards and fall into the lake. He sat there, wordless, staring at her with his mouth open.

"And then there's this!" she roared. "Whenever you want to shut me up, you just try to give me a snog! Did it ever cross your mind to _ask_ before you just assume that I want you?" She kicked water at him, enunciating every word furiously—"bloody—moody—egotistical—_pig_!" Her anger was almost comical now, with her voice cracking uncontrollably and her hair sticking up at odd angles.

Without thinking, he pulled her down by her knees and crashed her into the water so that they were sitting next to one another, waist deep in water with their knees poking up above the surface. Neither of them said anything for several minutes, they just stared at the castle, breathing hard.

"You're a git," Kathleen said finally.

"I know," he replied smoothly. "And you're absolutely out of your mind."

She looked at him. "Are you going to tell me what your issue is, then?"

He regarded her, fully taking in her eyes. For a split-second, he considered telling her everything—the Death Eaters, his task, the Dark Lord—all of it.

_No._

Not only was all of it top secret, but there would be no way she'd associate with him if he divulged what he knew, and what he had to do. He could feel it, though she was furious with him, if he just let her in enough, he'd have her. He wasn't going to sabotage his groundwork now.

"My father was imprisoned during the summer," he said finally. He eased his conscience by telling himself that it wasn't technically a lie, it just wasn't the whole truth. "It's just been… really hard."

Kathleen stared at him, and for a moment, he thought that she was going to laugh at him. Instead, however, she flung her arms around him and squeezed tightly.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered. "I know it's not much, but if you need someone to talk to…"

He pulled away, smiling uncomfortably. "Yeah. Thanks."

She stood and helped pull him up. He wordlessly siphoned the water from their clothes and she thanked him before suggesting that they get some lunch.

He walked beside her, staring straight ahead with a hard gaze. He struggled to keep from smirking—one small secret, one scrap of knowledge, and all was forgiven.

He chose to ignore the tiny, cold punch of guilt that was gnawing at him from the bottom of his stomach.


	6. Revive my temper

_This chapter draws a lot on Blaise/Kathleen's exchange at the table in the last chapter. It wasn't a central part of the chapter, but it's important for this one, so if you forget you may want to reread that bit. FINALLY, there is some _**_sexual content _**_in this chapter, so if that's not your thing, please skip over those parts._

_Oh, and I know that Dean and Ginny were actually dating at the beginning of HBP and I'm introducing them as a new couple but... Sue me :)_

_All rights to JK Rowling._

**Chapter 6**

Kathleen stretched out on the grass, basking in the late afternoon sun. It was unusually warm for late September, and she had been sure not to allow it to go to waste. Seamus was scribbling madly beside her, and Dean was off somewhere with his new girlfriend Ginny—much to Seamus' chagrin.

She was happy with the progress she had made with Draco. For once, it seemed like he had been honest with her. Her thoughts drifted back to the kiss they had shared, but she chased the memory from her mind. _He _forced _that kiss on you. Remember that._

She shook her head, as if that would shake him from her mind. Everything she had heard about him and everything she had observed up until this point had Kathleen convinced that she should take Seamus' advice and keep her distance. Still, she couldn't stop thinking of him, about how at home she had felt under the lock of his muscular arms, how his grey eyes were always on her—wanting, and waiting.

"So," Seamus said, flicking a twig at her to jerk Kathleen back into reality. "Y'hear from your parents yet?"

Involuntarily, Kathleen's eyebrows creased into a frown. She went to retrieve the letter from her pocket, then realized that she had left it in her robes, which were laying on her bed.

"I don't understand what's wrong with them," she replied quietly, sitting up cross-legged. Seamus opened his mouth to ask why, but she launched into speech before he could. "My whole life, Seamus, _my whole life_ my mother denounced magic up and down. The only ties she kept were to her family and to your mum. Now she's obsessed with it. It's like I don't even _know _them anymore."

For the first time since she had arrived, Kathleen felt tears finally reach the surface of her cheeks. She didn't want to admit it, but the alienation that her parents were treating her with was creating a loneliness that she had never felt before. Her family had always been incredibly tight-knit, and the physical separation was hard enough on its own.

Seamus put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry, Kath." He looked at her for a moment, apparently debating whether or not he should continue on. "I didn't want to bring this up, but did you ever consider that the reason your parents changed their minds might be because of Voldemort?"

"What are you talking about?" Kathleen questioned sharply.

"The Death Eaters hate blood traitors," he explained quietly. "Everyone knows that your mum married a Muggle and chose to stop practicing magic. It's not very common in the wizarding world. Voldemort would rank her high among the blood traitors, and I'm sure she's realized that and she doesn't want to put her family in danger."

Kathleen recoiled from Seamus' touch. "My mother would _never _join ranks with him!"

"That's not what I'm saying!" Seamus replied hastily. "I'm just saying that she's probably taken up magic again to protect you, like trying to deflect attention away from your family."

Kathleen allowed the thought to sink in. Suddenly, the image of her now almost three year-old sister Bridget flashed across her mind, and she swallowed hard. "Yeah… that makes sense, I suppose."

There was a long pause, where Seamus seemed to be calculating his words very carefully. Finally, in a tight voice, he said "I saw you with Malfoy this morning."

Kathleen immediately tensed. "_And_?"

He opened his mouth to reply, but quickly closed it again. He stared out into the lake. "Nothing."

She pulled out a roll of parchment and began writing her Potions paper, though she had little idea what it was she was doing. It was what she wanted: Seamus to quit telling her what to do with Malfoy, yet she felt like a witch—the evil kind—for snapping at him. Neither of them said a word until the sun set and they were forced to return inside.

* * *

><p>"What do you mean, she's sending love letters to some <em>bloke<em>?" Draco demanded. Blaise shrugged.

"Maybe you should pay a bit more attention, mate," he replied slyly, a grin spreading lazily across his lips. "I saw her with the letter this morning, I didn't know to try and get a look until after she'd put it away." He paused thoughtfully. "She seemed right upset about it, to tell you the truth. She must have really felt for the guy."

"I think you should take it as a sign to quit dogging after that slag," Pansy piped in, examining her long red nails. Goyle grunted in agreement.

"What's gotten into _you, _Goyle? It's not as if she's ever spoken a word to you!" Draco snapped, then turned to glare at Blaise. "Who was it from?"

Again, Blaise shrugged. "I didn't get a good look at the seal. Some bloke named McCormack. He's probably from her hometown." He laughed, amused at seeing Draco so frazzled. "Don't worry, Malfoy, apparently he wasn't interested anyways. She told me he rejected her. So she's still free for the taking."

Somehow, this didn't ease the beast of jealousy that had just erupted within Draco. Part of him knew that he had no right to be angry, but it was dominated by the overwhelming pain of betrayal. It was as if her almost caring words had been lies, and she was playing him as much as he was playing her. As far as he was concerned, he was the puppeteer in any relationship, and no one was going to make a fool out of him.

_Bloody hell!_ She wouldn't get away with this, _not_ after all he'd worked for, not after he'd spent so much time and effort… not after she'd acted as if she cared for him.

"Doesn't bother me any who she's willing to spread her legs for," he said coolly. He needed to read that letter, but he wouldn't be able to get into the girl's dormitory unless he had a girl _with _him. He strode over to Pansy and motioned towards the girl's dormitory.

"Let's go upstairs," he said quietly.

She was taken aback and asked in confusion, "why?"

He rolled his eyes impatiently and yanked her up by her hand. "Are you coming with me or not, Parkinson?"

Pansy's eyes damn near twinkled, and she led Draco towards the staircase with a smirk.

He wasn't happy about what he was doing, not only because it was Pansy, but because he had just shown serious vulnerability. Immediately and angrily demanding a shag from Pansy certainly made him look wounded by the news about O'Malley.

_I'm not wounded, _he thought viciously, _I'm teaching her a lesson._

"I was wondering when you'd come to your senses," Pansy purred, dragging him behind her. Without any hesitation, she entered into the dormitory and wrapped her arms around his neck.

He responded by slipping his arms around her waist, but he had rarely felt so uncomfortable. _Come on, _he thought vehemently. _You've done this before. Just fuck her and you can grab the letter without anyone knowing._

O'Malley deserved it anyway. He had been putting all of his effort into her, and all of this time she'd been trying to beat off some _other _guy without so much as mentioning it to Draco. He wouldn't be humiliated like this, O'Malley trying to keep the truth from him wouldn't get the best of him. _We'll see how she feels when she realizes where _she _stands._

Pansy's perfume was overwhelmingly floral, much too strong…

"I've missed you," she moaned, fingering his shirt to unbutton it. Just before she managed to take it off, he remembered to grab his wand from his pocket and silently put a concealment charm on his wrist so that his Dark Mark would be covered. She threw his shirt to the floor and placed her lips on his firmly. He returned the kiss, opening her mouth with his tongue and biting her lip. She moaned, grinding into him, sliding one red-clawed hand through his hair.

She wrapped her fingers firmly around him, despite that he was barely hard. The suddenness of the action caused his eyes to fly open and he felt an immediate wave of disappointment when he saw her raven hair instead of the strawberry-blonde that he had been imagining. He told himself to focus on the fact that when Pansy wasn't blathering on, she was incredibly attractive—hence why he'd slept with her so many times before. She had a nice body, not fit like O'Malley's but decently curvaceous and soft, and porcelain skin like his, not a trace of freckles…

_Just keep your eyes shut. Forget about O'Malley._

He snaked his hand up Pansy's blouse, shutting out her purrs of contentment, and led her down onto the bed, kissing her roughly, almost violently. He emptied his mind, allowed himself to be immersed in pure lust without paying consideration to his emotions, though they were still clawing at him. He squeezed her full breast in his hand as he bit her earlobe, his eyes shut tightly.

"I told you," she murmured, unable to conceal the pure triumph that was threaded in her tone.

He stopped, willing himself to stay hard despite the grating sound of Pansy's voice. The pumping of her fist was nauseating, and he had no greater wish than to swat her hand off of him.

"Told me _what?" _he whispered, barely keeping the annoyance out of his voice.

"Not to bother with her," she said, her eyes still closed, her hands caressing his muscular chest. "That she's just a stupid little bitch."

He pushed her back roughly and leapt off the bed, a look of disgust on his face. "Don't you _ever_ shut up?" he yelled.

Pansy's eyes snapped open in terror. "I didn't mean—" tears began to well up in her brown eyes, and she clutched the covers of her bedspread to her chest. "Drake, where are you _going_?"

"Piss off," he replied sharply. "I'm tired of your _constant_ bitching. I should've known this was a horrible idea!"

"No!" she cried. "No, Drake, I didn't mean to tell you what to do, I just don't think that she deserves you—"

"I SAID SHUT UP!" he roared. He felt nauseous. He began to re-buckle his belt and zip up his fly. He stalked out of the room and went into Kathleen's dorm, tearing apart her things before finding the letter. He stared at it for a moment with half a mind to tear it into pieces, but instead he unfolded it carefully, as if it were a fragile trinket.

For a moment, he hesitated. Suddenly he realized, perhaps even accepted, that he had no right to this letter. She may have had a boyfriend when she left Ireland—he hadn't even _asked_. He shouldn't read it. He _shouldn't_.

_Really now, Malfoy? Going to let this girl make a bloody fool of you?_

He closed his eyes, exhaled quickly. _No. No one makes a fool out of Draco Malfoy._

He didn't read the seal first; he was more concerned with what was being said than who it was with.

His grey eyes scanned the parchment quickly. He read it and reread it over again. _No, this couldn't be it. This is the wrong letter_. Either that, or O'Malley had been just toying around with Blaise when she had told him that she was being rejected… _Why_ hadn't he considered that possibility before?

Finally, he looked at the seal, and what he saw made his blood run cold: _Margaret and Ethan McCormack._

"_Love you,_

_M & D."_

Everything suddenly fit together with sickening clarity. "Love you, _Mum and Dad." _Mum and Dad… Margaret and Ethan.

He dropped the letter as if it had suddenly ignited, burning his hands. He stared at in disbelief as it floated to the floor, and without bothering to replace Kathleen's things, he sprinted out of the dormitory. His head was spinning.

_Shit._

* * *

><p>Kathleen entered the common room feeling like she was wearing a lead vest, the guilt of being rude to Seamus was weighing on her so heavily. Oddly, the only person by the fire was Pansy—no one else was to be seen.<p>

"Hey, Pansy," Kathleen said casually, disappointed that she wouldn't be having any lighthearted talking before she had to go to bed. She didn't mind Pansy—she didn't know her well enough to—but she hadn't been particularly welcoming to her, and seemed to make a point not to address Kathleen directly. Kathleen got the impression that this shunning was nothing to be upset about, though.

Pansy looked back with such fierceness in her eyes that Kathleen actually staggered back. Her face was screwed up with anger in such a way that she looked demented, and any trace of her usual dark prettiness had vanished.

"Whoa," she said uneasily. "Y-…You okay?"

Pansy stood, her head held high in the air. _If looks could kill…_

"It's cute you think that I'll talk to someone like _you," _she breathed, striding past Kathleen and purposely knocking her in the shoulder. "A bit sad, really."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Kathleen barked behind her, but Pansy was already trailing up the stairs. Kathleen thought she saw her angrily brush a tear from her eye, but she couldn't be sure.

"What is _wrong _with these people?" she yelled before kicking the half-cabinet beside the sofa in anger. It toppled in response, spilling out its contents over the floor. Kathleen gave a small scream of frustration, then took a calming breath and plopped down cross-legged onto the floor to remedy the damage she had just done.

* * *

><p>"What is <em>with <em>you these days?" Blaise demanded when Draco crashed into the dormitory with unkempt hair and a half tucked-in shirt.

"Semester's killer, isn't it?" He replied quickly before landing on his bed. He felt like a balloon being overfilled with air—ready to burst at any second.

"Shut up," Blaise shot back irritably. "I'm your mate, Malfoy, I'm not stupid."

Draco thought quickly for a few moments. Blaise was on _his _side. He had plenty of Death Eater relations. He hated the Mudbloods just like him, and he was a Pureblood. It should be safe to tell him, shouldn't it? He could tell _one _person, couldn't he?

"Well?" Blaise barked impatiently. Draco nodded nervously and rolled up his sleeve and then took his wand to his wrist to undo the concealment charm. Black lines twisted across his skin, revealing the all too familiar skull and snake that still imbued fear in him.

"I have a task for him," Draco said. His throat felt exceedingly dry. "For the Dark Lord."

Blaise's eyes were transfixed in disbelief on Draco's skin. "What kind of task?"

"I have to kill the old man," he answered quietly. It felt good to be telling someone other than his mother, someone whose welfare didn't necessarily depend on his.

"_Dumbledore?"_ Blaise asked incredulously. "No, he can't ask you to do that!"

"He has." Draco paused, and looked at Blaise. He was one of the few people that he trusted, and for once in his life, he felt grateful for the friendship he had with him. "He'll kill my family if I don't. And me."

Blaise was silent for several moments. "Well, that explains a lot, I guess," he murmured. "I don't know what to say."

Draco shrugged, wishing that he could down an entire bottle of firewhiskey to numb his emotions. Blaise looked at Draco uneasily.

"How does O'Malley fit into this?"

"She doesn't," he replied harshly. His chest hurt, and suddenly he didn't want to talk anymore. He just wanted to sleep. "She's just a girl, Zabini."


	7. Flare

The sunshine had finally given way to the cold, miserable wetness that was autumn. Draco raked his fingers through his loose hair, mentally rehashing the situation in his mind.

_Ethan and Margaret McCormack._

He didn't immediately recognize the names when he first read them. Even then, it was only Margaret's name that had ever been mentioned to him—'_Rosalind Clancey's daughter,' _his father had said with utter disdain, '_perhaps the most sickening example of a blood traitor my generation has to offer.'_

Draco leaned back into his chair, his head pounding with sharp bursts of pain. His situation was becoming more and more broken and fragmented, and he didn't know how to rectify it. What unnerved him the most was that discovering Kathleen's parentage hadn't deterred him in the least from wanting her—she still managed to intercept his thoughts far too often and he couldn't douse the flame of jealousy that he felt when he saw her laughing with Thomas and Finnigan.

He had managed to avoid her for just over a week without making it obvious that he was trying to do so, but he wouldn't be able to keep it up any longer. There would be quidditch practice on the weekend, and it seemed that every time he turned his head, Kathleen was there.

Suddenly, he remembered something that Blaise had said about the Weasley girl on the train ride to the school:

"_I wouldn't touch a filthy blood traitor like that, no matter what she looked like."_

He shifted uncomfortably. Technically, Kathleen herself wasn't a blood traitor, only her mother—to his knowledge, at least. And yes, she was a half blood, but that in itself didn't make her untouchable. Half-bloods were acceptable so long as they understood the importance of blood status. He couldn't _marry _one, obviously, but that's not what he was looking for, anyway.

Draco sighed. He knew that no one would follow that logic, and that Kathleen may as well have been a mudblood.

His problem was that the more difficult the challenge became, the more he wanted the prize at the end. He deserved it, didn't he? Draco was a pureblood and he was slated to kill one of the greatest wizards to ever live for _the_ most powerful wizard alive. He was so used to being showered with gifts from his parents for barely lifting a finger, but now that he was completing the most difficult task he had ever faced, he wasn't even going to be rewarded…

Suddenly, a thought hit Draco like a slap in the face. "What is _wrong _with me?" he exclaimed aloud, though the room was empty.

He _was _going to be rewarded for his efforts with the greatest gift he could ever imagine—the life of his parents. _Nothing _was more important than that, particularly not a casual fuck with some girl who likely didn't give a damn about him. Though they spoiled him, his parents were the only ones who had ever shown Draco true affection—everyone else either blindly praised him, detested him, or ignored him completely. His mother in particular had devoted her life to raising Draco lovingly. Throughout his life, his parents were the sole people who he felt truly _cared _about what he did, even if that meant correcting his behaviour. For Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle, it seemed that it didn't matter what lines he crossed, they still followed him like blinded sheep.

Finally, for once, Draco felt a new urgency that had nothing to do with Kathleen. With renewed energy, he got up and decided that he needed a quicker solution to Dumbledore—a trip to Borgin and Burkes' could solve that.

* * *

><p>The past couple of weeks had been exceedingly lonely for Kathleen. Seamus and Dean had become fully engulfed in their sixth-year classes which seriously cut into the time that they could spend together, Draco seemed to have fallen off the face of the earth, and she found all of the fourth years in her classes about as pleasant as a pack of hungry mosquitoes. On top of that, Pansy had taken to scowling at Kathleen every time she saw her, which often meant that she went off to bed without a word to Blaise or Daphne.<p>

She wished that Hogwarts had a telephone so that she could hear her parent's voices, and Bridget's. She hadn't spoken to Bridget at all since she had left Nann's house at the end of the summer, and she felt guilty for missing so much of her growing up. It had been nearly a year since she'd seen her last.

On Sunday morning, Kathleen left breakfast early so that she could get a start on her DADA homework—Snape seemed to relish assigning an inhumane amount of work every class, which was made worse considering that she had barely any idea what he was talking about half of the time.

When she returned to the common room, she found an unnervingly common sight—Malfoy slumped over unconscious, a stack of books beneath him.

Kathleen regarded his face—his paleness was giving way to a sickly grey skin tone, and every time she had managed to catch a glimpse of him, he looked either too anxious to sleep or too exhausted to be standing upright.

She knew desperation when she saw it, and despite their somewhat volatile relationship, Kathleen felt that she had a duty to help him out. After all, he had helped her make friends in Slytherin, and with her homework… in his own roundabout, sort of asshole-ish way.

Kathleen took off her cloak and rested it over his shoulders, then swept out of the common room as quickly as she had come in.

* * *

><p>Something was jabbing at him him.<p>

Had he fallen asleep at the manor? The feeling was annoyingly reminiscent of when his aunt Bella poked him with her wand when he was doing poorly at Occlumency. God, he didn't want to open his eyes, it felt like he had only just fallen asleep.

"Draco, wake _up_!"

Involuntarily, his eyes flew open at the sound of Kathleen's voice. "What do you want?" he snapped nastily, his eyes boring into hers. She seemed undeterred by his hostility.

"I don't know what it is that you do at night, but you better quit it before you expire," she said warningly, then she motioned her head towards a tray placed on the desk. "I got you some breakfast."

He stared at her in disbelief, then glanced at the tray. It was stacked with two meal's worth of breakfast—bangers and mash, oatmeal, toast, sliced fruit, pumpkin juice, and a bit of scrambled egg. Draco frowned at her. "I don't need _you _getting my meals, O'Malley."

"You have a really poor way of saying thank you," she replied calmly. "I'll chalk it up to hunger." Kathleen stared curiously at the books that had been piled underneath Draco's chin, silently mouthing the title of one. "Jesus, what are you doing reading _these_?"

He quickly shoved the books into his bag to prevent her reading anything else. He had, in fact, been trying to curse the necklace that he had picked up from Borgin and Burkes, which had ultimately proved to be much more difficult that he had anticipated. Finally, in the wee hours of the morning, he had managed it.

"Why can't you mind your own business?" he hissed before burying his face in his hands tiredly. "You're bloody annoying, you know that?"

Kathleen rolled her eyes, but said nothing. She sat down in a chair a couple of feet away from Draco and waited impatiently until he finally started eating. She remained silent as he consumed the entire meal with a gradually quickening pace. He hadn't realized how hungry he was, nor did he want to admit how much he appreciated that Kathleen had brought it to him.

"Better?" she asked.

"Thanks," he mumbled.

Silence.

"What is this?" Kathleen asked, reaching over to the parchment-wrapped necklace.

Instinctively, he tackled Kathleen back, grabbing her around the waist. "Don't touch that!"

Kathleen glared at him in confusion and bewilderment before shoving his hands off of her back in disgust. He silently prayed that she hadn't noticed that he had unconsciously pulled her towards him.

He could smell her spicy scent, and in that moment, he hated Kathleen for the spell she put over him. Draco was in the midst of planning a murder and he couldn't think of anything but grabbing her by the hair and making her his, getting her into his bed and making her _beg _him to finally fuck her within an inch of her life, to make her feel the wretched lust that was poisoning his body.

"You shouldn't touch things that aren't yours," he breathed. His voice was far more unsteady than he would have liked.

"Apparently," Kathleen muttered, brushing off her robes angrily.

"I have to go," he said brusquely, turning away from her.

"Malfoy, you need to go to _bed," _Kathleen replied in exasperation.

He didn't bother to look at her as he began to pack away his things, making sure to stuff the necklace securely at the bottom of his bag, well-wrapped in paper. "I've got more important things to do," Draco sneered.

"Oh, for god's sake!" Kathleen growled. "You've only gotten what, three hours of sleep? You're running on empty, Malfoy, and you need to give yourself a break!"

"You don't have _any _idea what you're talking about!" he shouted vehemently. "I _can't _take a break, O'Malley!"

Kathleen's gaze was fiery, and for a moment, Draco felt a flicker of fear as she glared determinedly at him. She grabbed his hand and led him up to the boy's dormitory. As he trailed up the stairs, he was almost sure that he heard a shriek from the common room from what sounded like Pansy.

_Perfect, _he thought. _Another thing that I'll have to deal with_. He resented that O'Malley was leading him as if _she _had some sort of control over him, as if she had some right to tell him what to do. Still, it was nice to have her hand in his without her squirming about and trying to maim him for once.

* * *

><p>"Now get into your bed already," Kathleen said lightly once they had entered his room. She regretted even trying with the stupid git, but since she had already started, she had to follow through.<p>

"Mmm, usually I'm the one who gives directions in the bedroom," Draco retorted sarcastically.

"Why can't you ever just be kind?"

"There are more important things in the world than _kindness_," Draco replied with disdain. "God, you sound like a bloody Hufflepuff!"

"Oh, please _do_ enlighten me, oh wise one!" Kathleen snapped, her words dripping with sarcasm. She could feel herself swelling with rage—how could he be so rude to her when she had only been trying to help him out? "I would just _love _to hear what you think is so much more important than treating people with respect!"

Draco's eyes flashed dangerously and he snarled, "and I suppose you think that everyone just automatically deserves respect regardless of who they are, don't you?"

She was taken aback and genuinely confused. "Excuse me?"

"You don't get it," he scoffed. "What matters is who you are, Kathleen. Where you've come from. _That _determines if you deserve respect or not."

For some reason, the combination of Draco using her first name and the words that he had said stabbed through her chest like a hot blade. It felt like a personal attack—but how could it be? There was no way that he knew who her parents were, that her mother was a blood traitor and her father a muggle.

"Hm, you're right," she replied quietly. She surprised herself that she was able to keep her tone even. "Yes, what you have the least control over really should have the greatest reflection on your character. Sounds about right to me."

He gaped at her furiously, temporarily speechless. "People should just _accept_—"

"You can't change who your parents are," Kathleen interrupted, her gaze fiery. "You can't change how you were raised, what you were made to believe. And you _can't _change who you've learned to love. You love your mother and father, don't you, Malfoy?"

Rage as Kathleen had never seen it erupted on Draco's face and he spat, "_don't_ you talk to me about my parents!"

But Kathleen wasn't finished. She was angry now. Whether or not he knew it, Malfoy was insulting her parents, her _life. _She wasn't going to allow him to besmirch who she was just because _he _couldn't accept people who weren't like him—Squibs, muggle-borns, what have you. She had heard non-stop from Seamus and Dean about Draco's supposedly pure blood, and how he made sure everyone knew he was superior for it—not to mention her exile from Slytherin because everyone thought she was a Squib.

"I know you do," she continued, breathing heavily, "it was your mum you were talking to that one night, wasn't it? And _you _told me how hard it was for you to have your dad in Azkaban—"

"You don't know _anything!" _he roared. "If you know what's good for you, O'Malley, you'll shut your filthy mouth—"

"But wouldn't you still love them, Draco, even if they weren't pure-blooded?"

Draco froze, and for a moment, he looked as though he was going to strike Kathleen across the face. She felt fire coursing painfully through her veins. Several moments passed before she said anything.

"My mother married my father, who is a muggle. She gave up magic forever, and you know what? I think that I finally understand why. You fucking people think that because you have powers that you're superior to everyone else, that you deserve _more _just because of how you happened to be born!"

She turned on her heel and stalked out of the room.

"O'Malley!" Draco roared behind her. "Don't you just leave when—"

"Save it," she replied coolly, looking directly into his eyes. She slammed the door behind her.

* * *

><p><em>Good one, Malfoy.<em>

He kicked his nightstand in utter rage, and didn't wince at the pain that shot through his leg. He shouldn't have gone that far, he _shouldn't _have, but what did she expect? That she could just come and barge into his privacy, that she could try to control him?

The worst part of it all was that he couldn't even deceive himself into thinking that she was doing anything malicious. Had any of his 'friends' other than Blaise showed any concern about him even though he'd obviously been falling apart? No.

Her words still rung in his ears: "But wouldn't you still love them, even if they weren't pureblood?"

What kind of a question was _that? _It didn't even deserve an answer, because they _were _pureblood, had always been, and would always be.

But would he?

As much as he didn't want to acknowledge it, he knew that if he hadn't grown up with the knowledge that he was a superior pureblood, he probably wouldn't suddenly give a damn about it now and hate his parents for not having pure blood.

He gritted his teeth, because admitting that would make his whole set of beliefs tumble down like a house of cards. If he could love two people regardless of _their _blood status, how could he say that someone else's blood mattered so much?

He pushed the thought aside in place of a more pressing one. O'Malley had freely admitted her parentage, which meant that he could no longer feign ignorance and pretend she was a pureblood.

Not that it mattered now, anyway. Malfoy acknowledged with a horrible sinking feeling that he may never speak to Kathleen again.

* * *

><p>Kathleen awoke the next morning with the feeling that she was recovering from a nasty wound. It still hurt, but she knew that she was going to get better.<p>

She had finally resigned to the fact that Malfoy was fundamentally flawed and a lost cause. Kathleen had wanted so badly to fix him, to help him with whatever it was that was bothering him so much, but she had been blinded by his chiseled features and charm. He was like an addict, except rather than injecting himself with poison, he clung hopelessly to his ego, no matter how much it hurt him and everyone around him.

She refused to let the jabs about her lineage get to her… The thought still made her heart hurt, though.

When Kathleen emerged from her morning shower, she realized that her clothes were missing. She rolled her eyes angrily—stealing her clothes was probably one of the girl's ideas of a funny prank.

_Not very clever, _she thought as she shuffled in her towel back to her room, _my clothes are about five feet away anyway._

When she entered her room, Kathleen's blood ran cold. Her clothes were all laid out across her room, but with one small change: each and every piece bore capital letters in a chilling, muddy crimson:

MUGGLE FILTH.

* * *

><p>Draco nearly fell over when he left the bathroom wearing only a pair of slacks.<p>

Kathleen was sitting on his bed, clutching a towel to her body. Immediately, he knew that this wasn't the same type of post-shower ambush that he had sprung on her over a month ago. She was crying quite uncontrollably—he wasn't sure he'd ever seen anyone so upset.

"O'Malley?" he asked uneasily, walking slowly into the room.

"I'll leave," she choked. "You win. I don't care. I hate this fucking place. Just please," she sobbed desperately, "please, just change my clothes back. I can't walk out like that. I can't go home wearing…" she sobbed wretchedly and buried her face in her hands.

"Kathleen," Draco asked cautiously, quietly, "what are you talking about?"

The look she sent him sent shivers down his spine. Pure hatred. "Don't patronize me, Draco. Don't make me beg. _Please_."

"I'm not patronizing you!" he cried, his voice desperate. "I have no idea what you're on about!"

"You're lying," she whispered, although her gaze had wavered a bit.

"Just tell me what's going on," Draco replied. His voice was shaky—he had a horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Kathleen let out a heart wrenching sob and pulled out a dress from beneath her towel and threw it at Draco. He held it up and read the words, an odd feeling surfacing within him that he couldn't quite place.

"Right," he muttered in disbelief.

"Pardon me?" Kathleen asked, confused.

"It was Pansy," he replied, sighing. He knew that he was no saint, but Pansy could be cruelty incarnate. She was spoiled just like he was, and Kathleen had seemingly taken away her favourite possession. She would have no problem reminding Kathleen of her inferiority in the most humiliating way possible.

He pointed his wand at it and muttered the best stain removal charm that he could think of, but it had no effect.

"Put it on," he instructed suddenly.

"_What_?" Kathleen shrieked in disbelief.

"You can't go anywhere in a towel," he snapped, and before she could protest, he went to his armoire to retrieve his cloak. He slipped it around her. "You can wear this. I'm taking you to Snape."

She nodded shakily, and he begrudgingly turned around while she slipped into the dress. It was odd to see Kathleen in such a vulnerable state—usually she was so fiery and undefeatable, or so it had seemed. For once, she was the one falling apart at the seams. Draco remembered guiltily that he _had _wondered how far one would need to push her before she finally snapped.

He walked confidently through the common room with his arm securely around Kathleen's shoulders, glaring at Pansy as he did so. He gripped her encouragingly when he felt her shake beneath him.

_Why are you doing this, Malfoy?_

He didn't know that he had an answer. He felt like he owed O'Malley in some way.

_What, because she brought you breakfast? _his thoughts interrupted, but he shook them off. It was because she had worried about him, something only his mother and father had ever done, and he felt that he had to protect that.

They quickly arrived at Snape's office, and Draco tried to repress the resentment that he felt towards Snape for the time being.

Draco did all of the talking, even going so far as to explain what had been written so that Kathleen wouldn't have to show Snape and humiliate herself further.

"And who do you think might have done this?" Snape asked coldly, his eyes fixed with an odd expression on Draco's hand that was resting on Kathleen's shoulder.

Kathleen was about to speak, but Draco cut her off and said, "no idea."

Snape nodded curtly and informed Kathleen that she could borrow a spare set of school robes for the day and he should have the hex lifted by the following morning. He eyed them suspiciously, even dangerously, as he left the room to go lead a Potion's lesson.

Kathleen stood up, shrugging off Draco's hand as she did so. "Thank you," she said quietly, not facing him.

"I acted like a prat last night," he said quickly, not wanting to say the words at all.

Kathleen smirked, but it lacked any trace of happiness. "Is that an apology?"

Despite himself, Draco grinned. "I don't do apologies, pet."

Kathleen let out a single, staccato laugh. "It's alright, you still did what I asked you to do anyway."

"And what was that?" Draco asked softly, staring at her parted lips that were slightly swollen from her biting through sobs.

She looked at him earnestly, a sad smile playing on her lips. To his surprise, she went onto her tiptoes and planted a gentle but intentional kiss on his cheek. "Somehow, you managed to be decent to another human being."

She turned and walked out of Snape's office, holding Draco's cloak tightly around herself. He watched her walk away, simultaneously feeling like he was going to burst and that he was now more empty than ever.

Nothing good could come of this.


	8. Slytherin I am

Kathleen concluded that she may have been sorted into the right house after all.

She knew it may have been wrong—at least, it was misleading. She had known before she did it. Still, she didn't regret it. Not at all.

Though it was a small gesture, kissing Malfoy's cheek was strategic. Kathleen had been feeling vulnerable, yes—in fact, more so than she could ever remember—but she hadn't shown him affection out of gratitude. The words he had hissed at her the night before hadn't left her mind and she hadn't forgiven him for them, either. The kiss was to keep her dignity and keep Malfoy's mouth _shut _about the disaster with her clothes and about her family. She had told him in a fit of rage about her parentage and _that _she had regretted—she could cope with what the Slytherins threw at her for it, but she couldn't bear being responsible for possibly putting her family in danger so carelessly.

Oddly, though, her feet had felt quite heavy and disobedient when she turned to leave Malfoy in Snape's office.

She glared out of the window through swollen eyes. She was angry that she had cried—before coming to Hogwarts, she couldn't even _remember _the last time tears had actually fallen from her eyes. Now _twice_ in a month she had been blubbering like a little baby. She picked up her wooden comb and angrily began to tug it through her waves of hair, trying to make herself look a little less disheveled before she emerged from her room… Whenever that would be.

There were three sharp raps on her door. She stared at it for a moment, then chose to stay silent. She still didn't feel like talking to anyone—particularly not any of her Slytherin housemates.

"Open up, O'Malley," came the familiar, cold voice that Kathleen had become too accustomed to. She ignored Malfoy, continuing to comb through her locks and stare out of her window. She didn't want to face him right now; she didn't want to talk about it. A part of her was screaming to open the door and invite him in, but another, more urgent part of her kept her rooted on her bed.

"I know you're in there," he called, annoyance evident in his tone. He knocked loudly and impatiently one more time, and still she said nothing. She could almost feel his eyes rolling through the door before she heard him mutter _alohamora._

The lock clicked open unceremoniously. Instinctually, Kathleen ran to hold the door closed, but he overpowered her easily and forced himself into the room.

"Back to hating me again, are we?" Malfoy asked nastily, glaring at her.

"What if I had been dressing or something?" Kathleen barked, plopping back down onto her bed in resignation.

"Well, I might not have stayed out even if you had asked then," he replied almost matter-of-factly. He didn't even try to contain his cruel smirk.

"I just don't want to talk to anyone right now," Kathleen muttered, ignoring his attempt to rile her.

"Hmm, how unfortunate," he replied mockingly.

It made her _furious _that he was so offended that she wouldn't allow him to invade her privacy. What the hell did he _want? _Didn't she have a right to be alone for an evening after she had essentially been the victim of a hate crime?

Kathleen gave him a hard stare but said nothing, silently inviting him to state his purpose.

"Finnigan and Thomas have been dogging me all day asking what I've done with you," he explained with disdain. "I'm sure they've convinced themselves I've been getting Crabbe to use the cruciatus on you for practice… Slytherins don't have anything better to do with their time, do they?" he asked sarcastically.

Kathleen sighed heavily. "I'm sorry for snapping at you," she said quietly, but in actuality she wasn't sure that she really meant it. "I'm just out of sorts right now."

He stared at her with an odd look for a moment, and Kathleen couldn't quite place what emotion it was. Confusion?

"Thanks for letting me know," she continued, "you've helped me out a lot today."

The undeterminable expression was quickly replaced with what was definitely agitation. "I'm not your bloody owl service, O'Malley. Keep that in mind."

Kathleen rolled her eyes and said sarcastically, "I'm so happy that this has changed nothing between us."

Draco narrowed his eyes at her and looked as if he were about to say something, but apparently he thought better of it. Without a word, he swept out of her bedroom.

* * *

><p>Kathleen slipped rather unnoticed into the Gryffindor common room alongside Seamus and Dean. The house seemed to be accustomed to her presence, as if she were an honorary housemate.<p>

_Minus the bravery, _she reminded herself bitterly, _otherwise you _would _be a Gryffindor and you wouldn't be in such a bloody mess right now. _Slowly, Kathleen was beginning to accept that she wasn't brave—she just had an enraged sense of determination to get what she wanted. Granted, what she wanted may have been more honourable than what the other Slytherins wanted, but she now realized that she was willing to go to almost any length to get it… or maybe she was just in a bad mood?

No matter.

"I'll kill the little ferret," Seamus muttered before Kathleen had even said anything.

"He was telling the truth," Kathleen replied quietly. "It was Pansy."

"Good! I like pug hunting too!" Seamus snapped, seemingly unaware that his anger was making Kathleen bristle with agitation. Dean elbowed Seamus in the ribs, regarding Kathleen's eyes.

"What happened, Kath?" he asked plaintively.

Kathleen sighed before she said anything. Dean and Seamus were genuinely concerned, but she couldn't bring herself to repeat everything again, especially since that meant explaining her parentage to Dean.

"She just messed with some of my things. Snape fixed them for me."

"With no help from Malfoy, no doubt," Dean muttered.

Kathleen couldn't help but to roll her eyes. "Look, I know you all seem to have an undying hatred towards him, but would it kill you to believe that he was actually _kind _to me about it?"

Dean and Seamus retorted something back in unison, but she didn't quite hear it. Instead, she could only focus on the burning, unmistakable sensation that someone's eyes were on her.

Kathleen whipped her head around to meet a pair of eyes the exact shade of hers.

Why was Harry Potter staring at her?

She narrowed her eyes for a moment, and she realized that his gaze didn't waver. It wasn't like how Malfoy looked at her—he wasn't leering or wolfish, but there still was that glint in her eye that told her that he wanted something from her… _badly_.

What finally broke their eye contact was Ginny walking up to Dean and asking him to help her practice for her charms class. When Harry looked at Ginny, there was definite longing. So he didn't want Kathleen for _that _reason… Kathleen turned back to Seamus, puzzled by the odd exchange.

Seamus sat on the overstuffed sofa by the fire, and motioned for Kathleen to do the same. She obliged, happy to have Harry's unnerving stare directed elsewhere.

"Me mum wants me to go back home," Seamus said suddenly, his eyes blank.

"_What?"_

"Says it's not safe here," he explained. "She still can't believe that your mum actually thought this would be better for you."

"You can't leave!" Kathleen exclaimed.

"I'm not going to," he replied evenly, "but it does tell me one thing. This isn't a game anymore, Kathleen. Everyone needs to keep an eye out; everyone needs to be more cautious than ever." He looked at her seriously. "That includes you."

"Don't you think it's better to have good connections across the board, regardless of what someone's family is like?" Kathleen answered.

Seamus blew out air. "This isn't fucking _footie, _Kathleen. You can't just chum up with the other team if you feel like it. You need to choose a side and stick to it."

"Don't you understand?" Kathleen hissed. "That's what got everyone into this mess in the first place! What if I care about someone despite the side that they're on? Shouldn't there be some things more important than blood beliefs, whether or not you think they're right?"

Seamus was speechless for a long time. He seemed to be contemplating what Kathleen had said—he didn't like it, but he couldn't exactly reject it, either. Finally, he said, "point taken."

For the first time that day, Kathleen smiled and hugged her friend. Though he didn't agree with her, Seamus at least finally admitted that her position wasn't an illogical one. They spent a few minutes sitting silently in front of the fire before Kathleen decided she needed to be getting back, lest she get detention.

"Stay out of trouble," Seamus said through an obnoxious yawn. "Oh, by the way, are you coming to Hogsmeade on the weekend?"

"Of course."

"Good. Meet me in the café. I'll be damned if I'm going to be a third wheel to _them._" He gestured to Dean and Ginny, who were feverishly snogging each other in front of the window.

Kathleen nodded in agreement before clambering out of the portrait hole. She knew she only had about ten minutes to get all the way back down to the dungeons, so she started off at a swift jog.

She had only just rounded the corner when someone grabbed her wrist rather forcefully.

"Kathleen!" Harry said, in a falsely surprised tone. He was an incredibly poor actor.

"Harry," she said cautiously, gently trying to pull her hand back. Immediately, he dropped his hand and smiled nervously, as if he had been unaware that he'd grabbed her in the first place.

"You liking Hogwarts so far?" he asked in a would-be friendly tone, but he seemed incredibly anxious about something, and was unable to keep still.

"Um, it's alright," Kathleen replied awkwardly. "You okay, Harry?"

"Yeah, of course!" he replied far too quickly. "Er, I do have a question for you."

"Okay…"

"It's a rather… personal question."

Kathleen cocked an eyebrow. She normally would've declined, but he had piqued her curiosity. "Alright, shoot I guess."

"Have you, uh, ever been with anyone?"

Kathleen stared at him incredulously. "Pardon?"

"You know, like, romantically," he said as fast as humanly possible. His cheeks were burning red, but he seemed determined. "Pretty girl like you, I'd figure that you'd probably have been with…" He trailed off and seemed too embarrassed to finish his sentence.

"What—"

"Intimately, I mean," he said rather bluntly. "Normally, I would never ask something like this, you have to understand, but it is fairly important."

Kathleen's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "This is about Draco, isn't it?"

"So you have, then," he replied, his voice losing its shakiness. "Because I was wondering—"

"I have _not _slept with Malfoy!" Kathleen spat. "What the hell is this all about?"

Harry bit his lip, obviously contemplating something. "Okay, Kathleen, you're going to think I'm mad when I say this…" He exhaled. "Malfoy is a Death Eater. I'm sure of it."

That hit Kathleen like a slap in the face, but she recovered quickly. "Right. And this has to do with me sleeping with him… how?"

"The Dark Mark," he explained desperately, "no one will believe me because no one's seen his Dark Mark. I thought maybe if you two had—well, you know—you might've seen it."

"Sorry to disappoint," Kathleen replied sharply, now incredibly annoyed with Harry. What right did he have? He had no evidence that Malfoy was anything of the sort! "If you'll excuse me, I'm going to go to bed."

"Wait!" He called, grabbing hold of her hand. "I really am sorry to be so rude. It's just… You have to understand…" He sighed. "I'm sorry. I really don't know you."

"No, you don't," she replied coolly, looking him up and down. She sighed—he seemed to be sincere. "Why would you accuse Draco of something like that?"

"You don't know him like I do," he replied darkly. "Like I said, I don't know you, but I do know him."

"He's not all bad," Kathleen mumbled half-heartedly. "He helped me out of a jam today."

"No offense, Kathleen," Harry said cautiously, "but that's probably because he wants to sleep with you."

She glared at him. "I'm aware of that possibility. I don't think it's the truth." _At least, I don't _want _to think it's the truth._ She regarded Harry for a moment. He really wasn't trying to hurt anyone. "I'll tell you what, if I happen to see Draco with naked wrists, and that's a very big _if_, I'll make sure to look." She took a shaky breath. "And I'll tell you if I see anything."

Harry nodded enthusiastically. "You have no idea how grateful I am, Kathleen."

She shrugged. "I'll see you around."

"Right."

Kathleen gave a single wave and sprinted down the stairs—she was already breaking curfew. _Damn damn damn._

As she had feared, Malfoy was leaning against a pillar when the portrait swung open, his cold eyes narrowed. His arms were crossed.

"It's past curfew, O'Malley," he breathed.

"Yeah," she said breathlessly. "Sorry."

He raised an eyebrow at her, gazing at her dangerously. Slowly, he unfolded his arms and stepped towards her. A smirk creeped onto his lips, then he slipped behind her, resting his large hands on her shoulders.

"Still trying for that detention with me," he whispered, leaning his lips towards her ear. Not close enough to touch, but close enough to _feel_.

She had a witty retort to shoot back at him, but her throat suddenly felt dry and the words became lodged in her throat.

He was so close. There was no need to be that close.

Kathleen could hear her heart pounding in her ears, she could feel it hammering against her ribcage like a desperate hummingbird trying to get out of a cage. She inhaled sharply…

What was happening to her?

"Don't pretend you can fight it anymore, O'Malley," he whispered almost harshly. Fight _what? _The kiss on the cheek was just strategy.

His hand slid down her shoulder slowly, his fingers tracing her arm, then her waist…

It was just _strategy!_

His lips grazed her neck…

Everything Harry, Seamus and Dean had said to her tonight were inconsequential. It all seemed to melt away as soon as he came close to her.

She turned around slowly, running her hand up his chest. _Fuck_, _she _was going to kiss _him_!

Malfoy raked his fingers through her mane of hair and brought her face up to his. She could feel his breath, he smelled so wonderful and _god _she needed to have his lips on hers—

Suddenly, he stepped back. For a moment he looked bewildered, but he quickly replaced the expression with a cocky one. His voice was shaking.

"Bet you thought you could finally have me, eh, O'Malley?" he said with a forced laugh.

He had completely blanched.

"Why are you acti—"

"Patience, pet," he interrupted, his voice considerably more steady. "Maybe one day, you'll get lucky." He paused and smirked at her, though it wasn't confident in the least. "Don't be holding your breath."

_Wait, _what?

He disappeared into his dorm.

Kathleen stood staring, gaping. To no one, she asked, "what in the _fuck _just happened?"

* * *

><p><em>I know, I know. Everyone hates a tease. Be a kind soul and leave a review anyway?<em>


	9. Slip

**Chapter 9**

Draco flattened himself against the bathroom wall after shakily locking the door behind him. He was panting, his heart thundering in his chest, and he could feel beads of sweat along the edge of his platinum hair despite the coldness of the Slytherin dungeons.

He squeezed his eyes shut and lunged towards the sink, wrenching the faucets to twist left so he could drench his face with cold water. He attempted to slow his breathing, but waves of panic were crashing over him like an unrelenting tsunami.

_You're slipping, Malfoy._

He felt his face contort with emotion, but he exhaled quickly and straightened himself. He breathed in slowly, breathed out, closed his eyes. _Calm down._

He turned off the taps and slumped against the wall, rubbing his face with his hands. Without thinking, he rolled up his sleeves to cool down, and immediately his stomach lurched when he saw it.

So intricately drawn, slithering ever so slightly within its black confines. The Dark Mark was everything he ever wanted, and now he couldn't stand to look at it. He'd had O'Malley in his fucking _hands, _ready and willing, and the damn thing had scared him off like a spooked deer. He slammed his fist into the wall in rage.

He could feel a couple of bones in his knuckles cracking in protest, but he paid no attention.

He couldn't explain what had come over him. Draco had seen the Dark Mark, then he heard his aunt Bella's voice in his head:

_"You should be honoured, Draco. This is the single most important thing you will ever do in your life. The Dark Lord will not tolerate disappointment."_

No, he wouldn't. He also wouldn't tolerate an alliance with a blood traitor.

And what of the blood traitor? O'Malley, McCormack, whoever this damned girl was that was always occupying his mind. For the first time in his life, Malfoy felt a twinge of worry for someone other than himself or his parents.

O'Malley could get by as a half-blood through the war fine if she kept her fat mouth shut and stayed under the radar—unlikely, it was true, but at least possible. If she were associated to him in any way, she wouldn't have a hope. She wasn't pureblood and she didn't seem to give a damn about blood, or _magic _for that matter.

And still, despite his guilt, he was overwhelmed with his lust, his _need _to unrobe her feel her flesh and make her his and _only _his.

He couldn't stand the thought of O'Malley being with anyone else, yet he couldn't seem to compartmentalize his guilt so he could relieve some of the lust that had been plaguing him since the beginning of the term.

It wasn't a problem he was accustomed to.

He inhaled sharply. Maybe it would be over soon. If the necklace reached the old man after he had it planted in Hogsmeade, perhaps that would be enough to cast him away from this unwanted limelight. If the old man died, his father's name would be restored, and the immediate danger would disappear… Hopefully. Kill two birds with one stone, solve two problems in one.

Draco rubbed his throbbing knuckles as his inner voice reminded him that wishful thinking only led to disappointment.

* * *

><p>Kathleen sat opposite to Daphne and Blaise, finally escaping from the constant company of unpleasant fourth years (or worse—Pansy). Daphne was sitting cross-legged in front of him on the floor, while he sat on the sofa, rubbing her shoulders.<p>

"Keep it up and I might have to slip you a love potion to get this treatment full time," Daphne laughed. Kathleen couldn't quite figure out what went on between them—they seemed to date other people, yet they always came back to one another at the end of the day and couldn't keep their hands off of one another. It looked like friends with benefits, except the benefits were cuddling instead of sex.

Odd, Kathleen thought, that two people could tangle themselves together like that and still manage to keep things simple and light. _Wouldn't that be nice?_

"So what did Pansy do?" Daphne asked without warning, her eyes closed in relaxation.

Kathleen stared at her, gaping. "What do you… why would you say that?"

Daphne and Blaise both grinned and exchanged glances.

"She doesn't exactly keep quiet when she's cross with someone," Blaise explained slyly, working his hands into Daphne's neck. His motions were making Kathleen feel grumpy, maybe even a bit empty.

"Hmph," Kathleen replied noncommittally.

Daphne cocked an eyebrow at her. "That bad, huh? I guess she was pretty pissed."

"Can we change the subject?" Kathleen barked, irritated. Admitting that she had to walk around in knickers and a dress that declared 'MUGGLE FILTH' until she made it into Snape's office didn't seem terribly appealing at the moment.

"Touchy, touchy," Blaise tutted, smirking at Kathleen's inability to appear even. "You ready for the Quidditch match?"

Kathleen smiled confidently. "Is that even a question? We're playing Hufflepuff."

"They beat Gryffindor once," Daphne piped in, but Blaise rolled his eyes as if to say, "_and?_"

"I'm not worried," Kathleen replied resolutely. And she wasn't—the _only _thing she felt that she had no need to fret over at the moment was athletics. She looked at Daphne. "Hey, where is the café at in Hogsmeade? I'm supposed to meet someone there."

Blaise raised his eyebrows at her. "You mean Madam Puddifoot's tea shop?"

"I think that's the one."

"You've got to be joking," snapped a voice from behind Kathleen, causing her to jump in her seat.

"How long have you been standing there?" Kathleen demanded, whipping her head around to face Draco. He smoothly avoided the question.

"Who invited you there?" he demanded, his brows creasing into a frown.

"Why does it matter?" Kathleen retorted, furious that he was speaking to her as if he hadn't done a complete about-face with her before.

"Madam Puddifoot's is where all the couples go to snog," Daphne explained, her eyes twinkling in amusement.

"It's not like that!" Kathleen protested. "I'm just going with Seamus so he doesn't have to endure Dean and Ginny—"

"Double date then," Blaise mused quietly, taking in Malfoy's face which was obscured from Kathleen's view. He, like Daphne, seemed amused by the conversation.

"Are you mad?" Malfoy barked. "Absolutely not."

At this, Kathleen's temper flared. "Pardon me, _your highness, _but I didn't realize that you controlled who I spent my time with!"

"Do you want to be snogged by bloody _Finnigan _for an afternoon?"

She didn't, and Seamus probably didn't want that either, but he didn't need to know that.

"Sounds fine to me," she hissed through clenched teeth, standing up suddenly. "I'm going to the library!"

Daphne snorted with laughter, then stood up and followed behind her through the portrait hole.

"O'Malley!" she called, still giggling and jogging up next to Kathleen.

"_What_, Daphne?" Kathleen asked exasperatedly. She glared at her. "It's not funny!"

Daphne rolled her eyes, rolling her tongue across her grinning lips. "You're right, it's not." Suddenly, her face became serious. "I do want to talk to you about something, though."

Kathleen stopped and eyed the pretty Slytherin girl. "What's that?"

"Look, I don't care who you share your bed with. In fact, I've heard Malfoy will make you see stars—"

"I don't want Malfoy!" Kathleen shrieked.

"_However,_" Daphne continued determinedly, "Pansy does." She paused, frowning, then she looked directly at Kathleen. "She's obsessed with Draco. She lives and breathes him. And Pansy is a _brute, _Kathleen—she'll tear you into pieces too small for dog scraps. And if she can't do it herself, she'll charm someone else into doing it for her."

Kathleen considered the words, and didn't say anything for several moments. "I'm not scared of Pansy."

"You should be."

"There's nothing between Draco and I."

Daphne stared at Kathleen, raising an eyebrow at her knowingly. "Right. Of course not."

* * *

><p>"Draco, would you mind staying after class to assist me with something?"<p>

Draco glared at Snape. He knew exactly what he was doing and wasn't pleased about it. "Of course," he said tightly.

Once the classroom emptied, Snape leaned back against his desk, arms folded.

"I only wish to help you, Draco," he said smoothly.

"I don't need your bloody help!" Draco snapped, glaring defiantly at the person he used to like the most at Hogwarts. Ever since he had been assigned his task, though, his feelings towards him had decidedly soured.

"You can't expect to be able to do this on your own," Snape said, evidently trying to keep his tone even. "I can make it easier for you."

"I have a plan, thank you," he said crisply.

"Pray tell," Snape replied quietly, almost amused.

"It's none of your damn business!" Draco glared at Snape. Never would he have yelled at a superior like this before—particularly someone he respected, like Snape. Everything had changed. He could see Snape's lip curling in displeasure, but he didn't react otherwise.

"Need I remind you what is at stake here?" the professor whispered, standing up completely.

"You think I can _forget_?" Draco yelled incredulously. "It's all I can _think _about! I just won't have you taking the credit for it and land me in the same position I'm already in!"

At this, Snape's face reddened just slightly. "You're starting to sound like Potter. Always worried someone's out to steal the glory that you feel you've _so _earned."

"Don't you dare compare me to that git," Draco growled, but some of the tension in his chest had unraveled once he considered the words. "There is something that you can do."

Snape's expression remained unchanged. He waited silently for Draco to state what that something was.

"I'm planning something for the Hogsmeade trip," Draco said quickly, trying to sound as business-like as possible. He wanted to be taken seriously—no questions. "I want you to make sure O'Malley isn't there."

Snape's faced drained of what little colour it had to begin with. His voice, however, remained as cold and solemn as ever.

"What possible logic could you have for that?"

Draco didn't reply right away. He rolled his cheek in his tongue. Truthfully, he had a multitude of reasons to want O'Malley sitting tight in her dorm room while the festivities at Hogsmeade were in full swing, and the most important ones were the least noble.

"The girl has a knack for fouling things up for me." _I'll be damned if she's going on a date with Seamus fucking Finnigan._

Suddenly, Snape leaned into Draco, his voice whispered but menacing. "Do _not _lie to me."

As if he was going to tell the truth! He'd never keep O'Malley in if he knew it was a pissing contest between him and a Gryffindor—a pissing contest he intended to win, mind you.

"Look," Draco said carefully, calculating his words. "I don't want her being involved, alright?" Though it wasn't his primary motivation for the request, it was at least true. He'd rather not have O'Malley mangled up in this affair if he could avoid it—too messy. She'd probably go and get herself into trouble with that sodding mouth of hers, and then he'd have one more thing to deal with.

"I want you to listen to me very carefully, Draco," Snape said urgently. This was the closest to emotion that Draco had ever seen Snape; he almost seemed, well, _desperate. _It was unnerving.

"The Dark Lord gives no favours, spares _no one _in the end."

"I'm not daft, I know that!" Draco snapped. He didn't like where this conversation was going.

"Regardless of how much you care for them," he whispered angrily. "_Especially _not if you care for them."

Snape's voice had cracked on those final words.

"I don't give a damn about O'Malley!" Draco scoffed defensively. "Besides, what would you know about caring for someone?"

Snape's face flashed with hatred. "Your tongue is your worst enemy, Mr. Malfoy," he hissed. "Get out."

* * *

><p>Kathleen had settled between Blaise and Theodore Nott for lunch, only because Seamus and Dean had specifically asked her to sit facing Pansy. They wouldn't tell her why.<p>

About halfway through her beef stew, Dean caught her eye and winked at her. She smiled back, and he motioned for her to watch Pansy.

Draco turned to see what Kathleen was grinning at, and judging by his scowling expression, he wasn't happy to see Seamus and Dean where she had been looking.

"Look, Daphne, I don't care what you say, with acne like that he's got no chance in hell of getting a girlfriend," Kathleen heard Pansy drawl loudly from the opposite side of the table. Kathleen stared at her, innocently ladling broth into her own mouth while she waited for something to happen.

"There's more to a person than acne, Pans—"

"UGH!"

Pansy looked in horror at her plate, upon which she had just vomited a live slug.

Kathleen almost choked on her spoon, but made sure that her laughter was well-disguised as a hacking cough.

"What is—" Pansy shrieked, only to gag and expel two further slimy creatures. Immediately, she slapped her hands over her mouth and began to wail through her fingers.

Immediately, Professor Snape stood and walked calmly over to Pansy. He waved his wand over her and the vomiting ceased.

Pansy cried out in anger and stalked over to where Kathleen was sitting and wrenched her up by her shoulder.

"You little _bitch_!"

Kathleen rolled her eyes and shoved Pansy's hand off of her, careful to make sure it didn't look like she was doing anything more than defending herself.

Before she could reply, she felt a hand clamp on her shoulder and she was being led swiftly out of the Great Hall. She noticed as she swept away that Draco had been standing, glaring at the raven-haired psychopath that was screaming beside her.

"I will _not _tolerate such childish behaviour in my house, Miss Parkinson, particularly not from a prefect!" Snape hissed, evidently agitated.

"She _poisoned _me—"

"You know very well that was a hex, not poison," Snape replied curtly, his voice still laced with irritation.

"Well, she did it!"

"You expect me to believe that Kathleen O'Malley, possibly the least competent witch within this school, performed silent, _wandless _magic on you?"

Kathleen was about to protest at his rudeness, but promptly realized that his insult was actually working in her favour.

"You don't understand! I know it was her, because—" suddenly Pansy stopped, her eyes wide. She clamped her mouth shut.

"Because _why, _Miss Parkinson?"

Silence.

"Perhaps because you took some—what shall we call it—_artistic freedom_ with Miss O'Malley's robes?"

For once, Pansy seemed to have nothing to say.

Snape glared at the pair of girls. "I would have expected better from two upper-year Slytherins. Detentions for both of you."

"What?" Kathleen exploded. "I didn't do anything!"

"You told me that you had no idea who vandalized your clothes," he replied smoothly, a cruel smile working its way onto his mouth. "When clearly you already knew."

"You've got to be joki—"

"During Hogsmeade, I think, just to ensure you understand the seriousness of lying to your superiors." Snape turned to Pansy. "I expect you to do double Prefect duties for the next two weeks, and to help me prepare materials prior to Defense Against the Dark Arts."

Pansy couldn't contain her glee that somehow Kathleen had gotten off worse than she had. She smiled cruelly at Kathleen and sauntered off.

Kathleen tried to suppress her rage at the injustice she had just been dealt.

"Will that be all, Professor?" she asked tightly, trying to sound as polite as possible. She didn't do a terribly convincing job.

"No." Snape looked at her coldly. "If your work doesn't improve in my class, you can expect to miss the second Hogsmeade trip, as well."

Fearing that she may explode, Kathleen turned on her heel and stalked back up to the common room, her unfinished meal forgotten.

She sat facing the wall, her arms folded, silently seething.

"Rough," said a cool voice from behind her. She could feel him close to her and she bristled.

"Not in the mood, Malfoy," she replied through clenched teeth.

"Then again," he continued, plowing through as if she'd said nothing, "detention's probably better than having to endure an entire afternoon with Finnigan, isn't it?"

Kathleen whipped around, eyes burning. "You didn't—"

"Didn't what?" he asked softly, his expression dangerous and his words laced with venom.

"You barmy git, _you _got me stuck in detention!"

"Now now, O'Malley," he tutted, bending down so that their faces were level. He ferociously bit her earlobe and whispered into her ear, "how could I do such a thing? After all, it was _Snape _who put you into detention."

"You bloody _bastard_!" Kathleen shrieked, pulling away from him despite her body screaming for her not to. His eyes were wolfish and hazy—clouded with anger and lust.

"Hush," he whispered harshly, his eyes boring into hers. He pulled her up and held the back of her neck, moving her into him. "You didn't really want to go with him, did you?"

Kathleen was dumbfounded. She felt hot. But last time, he had shoved her away—she didn't want him—this was just another one of his mind games…

She couldn't speak.

"Cat got your tongue?" he asked mockingly, his lips brushing against the top of her ear. She hadn't quite realized how much he towered over her until that moment. He grabbed her chin and pointed her face upwards. He dove onto her lips firmly and skillfully, his fingers raking through her hair, teeth biting her pursed lips gently. She tried to push away from him.

"Kiss me," he breathed, not pulling away. His hips were grinding against hers; she could feel his hardness through their uniforms. She kept her mouth shut, willing herself not to give in, not when he was trying to control her.

"Kiss me!" he demanded, hungrily attacking her mouth and locking his arms over her squirming body.

She couldn't hold on any longer.

She melted against him, running her fingers through his loose hair and kissing him as angrily as he was kissing her. She held him tightly, allowing him to push her up against the wall and run his hands over her waist, his lips exploring her neck.

She moaned in pleasure, and she felt him ease off of her, ending with a soft kiss on her lips.

His smirk was more triumphant than she had ever seen it. He pushed his hair back lazily and sat her back down in her chair.

He knelt over once again, speaking directly into her ear.

"See? I was just doing you a favour, Kathleen."

* * *

><p>The room was dark. He hated being back at the manor.<p>

_She's angry._ He should have practiced more.

"_You aren't making any progress, Draco."_

"_I'll do better."_

"_The Dark Lord is growing impatient. Is something distracting you, boy?"_

_"Just wait. It'll be done soon. Just wait."_

_"You didn't answer my question, Draco."_

_"No. It'll be done soon. I promise, Auntie."_

* * *

><p><strong><em>All credits to JK Rowling!<em>**


	10. Fracture

Funny that his aunt should mention distractions. O'Malley was clouding his mind—he should have sealed the deal while he had the chance, while she was willing, but he wanted to make sure that he kept her interested. That took patience—something he was quickly running out of, particularly since Finnigan was igniting his jealousy by asking O'Malley out on dates.

"Soon, you say?" his aunt whispered, her breath closing around Draco's throat, strangling him.

He hesitated. He hadn't intended on telling anyone—he didn't want anything set in stone and he didn't want to be blamed if anything went awry with the necklace.

"Hogsmeade," he blurted rather unintentionally. He immediately regretted it.

Bellatrix's lips spread into a curve, and Draco wondered fleetingly how such a beautiful woman could become so ugly and cold when she smiled.

"I shall tell the Dark Lord!" she squealed in delight, clapping her clawed hands together in approval.

"No!" Draco protested quickly, and when she glared at him in surprise, he added, "he doesn't need to know until it's finished with."

There it was again, that horrid smile. Did she really have pointed teeth, or did Draco just imagine her to be so animalistic and vicious?

"I sense some hesitation, Draco," she breathed, moving behind him, whispering into his ear. He feared his aunt, but in an odd way. Her intrusion, her absolute _obsession_ with the Dark Lord made him uneasy. He had no problem standing confidently as she hissed at him, however. He didn't fear for himself. He was a pureblood, after all.

"Sense whatever you like, I don't want to meddle with his patience," Draco snapped. _Or his temper, for that matter._

"Afraid of what the Dark Lord may do if you fail?" Her voice was almost sing-song—taunting. For a fleeting moment, he wished his mother was sitting in on his occlumency lesson so she would get her sister to back off.

"Everyone's afraid of death, Bellatrix," he sneered, turning toward her and stepping back.

"Do call me auntie," she said, a dangerous glint in her dark, hooded eyes. "You shouldn't be afraid, Draco. Not if you die for _him._" She said the last word as if it were a lover's name.

"I'll keep that in mind," he replied shortly, moving to find an escape from the damned room.

"Draco," she called seriously, her voice suddenly cold. Immediately, his heart began to pound. "Nothing that you ever do will be a greater honour than this. _Nothing could ever be more important."_

He nodded once and swallowed dryly. "Of course."

* * *

><p>As to be expected, detention was excruciatingly boring. Kathleen had been forced to pipette all of Snape's recently procured bobotuber pus into vials without using magic (probably best, as magic likely would have taken longer anyway). The stench was horrendous, and Kathleen had to be extra careful not to spill any on herself, though she still managed to burn a hole through three pairs of dragonhide imitation gloves.<p>

She spent much of the detention thinking, trying to distract herself from the stink. As time passed on, she began realizing that she was listening less and less to the rumours that floated around about Malfoy. He was cold, yes, and definitely arrogant, but there was something about him that she was convinced everyone else couldn't see. He wasn't _evil_.

Kathleen absent-mindedly wondered if she would run into Draco again… perhaps finish what they had started.

_You sure about that, Kathleen? It _is _Malfoy, after all._

When she wished for excitement, however, what happened wasn't exactly what she'd had in mind.

The doors to Snape's office burst open, Hagrid thundering behind the hook-nosed defense against the dark arts teacher.

"You're dismissed," Snape hissed at Kathleen. Hagrid was carrying a girl in his arms, but he was obscuring her face with one of his enormous hands.

"What's going—"

"OUT!" Snape roared. Hagrid laid down the body on Snape's desk, and it took all of Kathleen's strength not to scream as she staggered back.

A Gryffindor that she vaguely recognized lay jerking on the wood, her mouth frozen open in a scream. Her eyes were rolling around wildly in her head.

Snape looked up at Kathleen with such chilling anger that she immediately ran straight from the office back to the common room without even thinking of stopping.

* * *

><p>Draco had seen the half-breed carrying her. The look in Snape's eyes, the look on the girl's face told him exactly what had happened.<p>

He couldn't help but run to the lavatory and retch up his lunch—the first worry-free meal he'd had since returning to Hogwarts.

He commanded his hands to stop shaking, his face to stop sweating.

_The girl's going to die. The old crackpot will live._

_This is your_ _fault, Malfoy. This is_ your_ fuck-up._

A sob escaped his mouth as he fell to his knees, his face scrunched up in agony, his hands twisted into fists. _So messy, so weak, so stupid, look what you've gone and done!_

"Who's there?" a whiney voice called. Draco immediately stood, wand instinctively drawn, looking for the source of the sound.

All he saw was the Mudblood ghost, the one that got killed when the Chamber of Secrets was first opened.

"What are you doing in the _boys _lavatory?" Draco sneered, fiercely rubbing his eyes with his sleeve.

"It can get a bit boring, being dead, you know!" Moaning Myrtle snapped indignantly. Then she said nothing for a few moments, just staring at Draco. "I used to cry at school, too."

"I think things are a little different," he scoffed, "and I _wasn't _crying."

Myrtle shrugged. "Alright, you weren't crying. You were just sniffing and crumpled up like a little boy who'd lost his dog."

"What's it to you?" he snapped.

"I don't know why I'd tell _you _since you're being so rude," she retorted, but then sighed. "I used to get terribly lonely, you know, sometimes I just wished I'd had someone to talk to rather than wailing away in the toilets."

Draco laughed, but it wasn't happy. He knew that feeling. He had no one, really. No one he could totally trust. He couldn't tell Blaise or his parents about his fear and the nuisance named O'Malley, he couldn't tell O'Malley about Dumbledore, and who else did he have, really?

The problem with being at the top of the food chain, Draco had discovered, was that it was very lonely up there.

* * *

><p>Kathleen was already shaken when she entered her room, so the eagle owl perched on her bed only served to startle her more. As soon as it saw her, it spooked and flew through the window.<p>

"What the hell?" she muttered to herself. She looked down to where it had been standing, and saw a folded, dirty piece of parchment. She plucked it up and unrolled it, immediately recognizing her mother's writing.

_Kath,_

_Sorry if the paper's a bit mangled by the time it reaches you, we were out of envelopes and it is quite a long journey from America for a piece of paper!_

_We just wanted to say hello, we're very excited to see you at Christmas. You know how I love poetry, and I've been going stir-crazy here, so I wrote you a poem! I hope you like it._

_Unusual, only you encourage value:_

_only love endures without 'nevers;'_

_never alone… never together,_

_surely, understanding regardless._

_Taboo, that noxious option,_

_do embrace viciously_

_ideals lost along bloodlines_

_Keep up with your studies my love, you have so much talent—whether or not you can see it. We're so proud of you, never forget that._

_Love,_

_M & D_

_P.s. If you're trying to understand the artistic meaning of the poem, just remember that your parents always have been a bit backwards._

If Kathleen had thought that the previous letter she had received was confusing, this one was downright nonsensical. _Poetry? _Her mother had never even _mentioned _poetry to her! At the same time, she could hear her parents more through this letter than she had through any other that she'd received this year. And what the hell was _with _that poem? "Do embrace viciously ideals lost along bloodlines?" What was that supposed to mean? Conform to Nann's viciously pro-magic beliefs?

Suddenly, Kathleen felt a pang of worry, though she couldn't pinpoint why. Something was wrong.

Frowning, Kathleen gingerly tucked the note into her inside robe pocket.

* * *

><p>It was wet and cold as they flew into the Quidditch pitch. Draco hadn't shaken off the necklace incident with the Gryffindor girl—it was all Hogwarts could talk about. Worse, he could feel Potter's eyes on him everywhere he went. At least he had an alibi, which was the only upside to an afternoon of detention with McGonagall.<p>

Thank Merlin that the game was against Hufflepuff. He wouldn't need to be at one hundred percent anyway.

Madam Hooch's whistle blew and his teammates peeled away. Despite himself, his gaze followed O'Malley. She was in top form in her Slytherin uniform.

_Not now, idiot!_

He made sure to focus on the pitch, looking out for the elusive golden snitch so he could get off this bloody field and return to the cabinet once again.

Maybe a small interlude in the shower with O'Malley, she'd be completely soaked and freezing after all this rain…

He looked around wildly, but calmed down when he saw that the Hufflepuff seeker was stationary. The chasers were doing their job—they were already up seven goals. Four had been O'Malley.

He shot up into the air so he could watch from overhead. He circled the pitch impatiently, scanning…

He dove, but the other seeker had gotten in his path before he could close his fingers over the snitch. He screamed profanities, at which point the announcer (Luna Lovegood) commented, "why, who knew that Draco Malfoy had such a vast vocabulary."

The girl hadn't meant it maliciously, she was too airheaded to, but the audience laughed all the same. He could almost hear Potter's chortles above everyone else's.

He hated Hogwarts.

He concentrated more than ever on finding the snitch.

"_One-hundred and sixty to twenty for Slytherin!"_

Looking, looking…

Draco froze, his gaze transfixed on something much larger than the Snitch.

* * *

><p><em>Finally, <em>they were getting to play. Kathleen hoped that the games in the future would be a bit more challenging; she was putting the Quaffle through the hoops like it was nothing.

She was clutching the Quaffle again, zipping between the beaters skillfully, winding around the opposing chasers.

She slowed down a bit when she realized that Draco was focused on something. It couldn't be the snitch, he'd have gone for it by now. Besides, he looked a bit frightened.

She looked in the direction of his gaze, and saw a woman dressed in black standing on the grass beside the stands. She had long, crazy black hair and dark eyes. She seemed to be smiling at Draco.

The next few events happened in a matter of seconds. From the corner of her eye, she could see a misdirected bludger hurtling toward Draco. She screamed at him, but he didn't snap out of it. Without hesitation, she shot in front of the screaming bludger, taking the brunt of it in her shoulder and flying off of her broom.

Kathleen wouldn't remember hitting the ground.

* * *

><p>Draco dove down as soon as he realized what was happening. He couldn't see O'Malley's face, but she was crumpled on the ground and motionless. Panic instantly set in, and he immediately abandoned his broom and ran to her.<p>

"O'Malley!" he yelled angrily, flipping over her limp body. Her face was already bruising and her hair was matted with blood, though he couldn't tell where it was coming from. Her eyes were barely closed, which almost made her look conscious.

"Wake up, you prat!" he screamed, frantic. Madam Hooch was hurrying over, and he then realized that Kathleen was at least still breathing.

"MALFOY, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?" Blaise's voice boomed over the pitch. Suddenly, he remembered that the game was still going. He looked up at the stands and instantly realized that everyone was staring at him, some with expressions of shock , others with curiosity. He looked to where his aunt had been standing, and she was nowhere in sight. Madam Hooch was already levitating Kathleen off of the field. Hesitantly, he mounted his broom, cursing silently to himself this time.

He was distracted and agitated for the rest of the game. He couldn't quite get his focus back and he _needed _to get the snitch; without O'Malley, a one-hundred and fifty point lead was going to be more difficult.

Apparently the Gods were smiling in his favour, because the snitch seemed to suddenly appear into his field of vision after only fifteen minutes, and was shielded from the view of the other seeker. He floated over to it slowly without looking at it, fooling everyone into thinking that he was just trying to get a different angle to watch from. Then, in a final burst of speed, he easily plucked the ball from the air before his Hufflepuff counterpart could even see what was happening.

There was a roar of applause from the Slytherin stands, and barely even a polite clap from the rest of the audience. Draco rolled his eyes. _They wonder why Slytherins hate the other houses._

He quickly flew down to the ground, threw the snitch angrily into the grass and stalked off the field without waiting for his teammates to clap him proudly against the back for his win.

Once inside the locker room, Draco kicked one of the benches clear across the room and into the wall.

Bellatrix was spying on him and she wasn't pleased that he had failed with the necklace. Now she had not only seen that he was wasting time playing quidditch, but she probably saw him fly down to O'Malley like a bloody schoolboy. He knew that Kathleen would be fine, but he couldn't shake that from his conscience, either. What if Pomfrey hadn't gotten to her in time to reverse the damage?

"Whoa whoa whoa!" Blaise called, jogging over to Draco and grabbing him by the shoulder. "What the hell is all this about? We won!"

"Piss off," Draco hissed, wrenching his shoulder away.

"Thought you said O'Malley was just a girl?" Blaise remarked, eyeing the blonde.

"Don't push me, Zabini," Malfoy warned, turning from his friend. The others filed into the showers, quietly pleased with themselves for such a spectacular score against Hufflepuff.

"She'll be fine, mate," Blaise assured, unconcerned. Draco angrily tore off his muddy clothes, took a thirty second shower, and raced up to the castle before anyone could follow him.

Just his luck to run into _Saint Potter _on the way to the hospital wing.

"Where are you headed in such a hurry, Malfoy?" Harry questioned, his eyes betraying suspicion.

"None of _your _bloody business, I think," Draco said back in a bored voice, but his insides were on fire. Why couldn't the git just leave him _alone?_

"I'm just concerned," Harry said sweetly, "you've seemed so stressed lately. Tired."

Immediately, without thinking, Draco's wand was at Harry's neck. "Remember what happened the last time you tried meddling in my affairs, _Potter_," he hissed with disdain. "Invisibility cloaks and spreading rumours about me won't get you what you want. Next time I catch you, I won't just break your face, I'll _kill _you."

Harry seemed unperturbed, though the amusement on his face had turned serious. He too had his wand drawn. "Seems that you've something to hide, Mister Malfoy."

"You have no idea what you're dealing with," Malfoy breathed, his vision blurring with rage, "you never have, you arrogant _twat. _If you want to salvage anything by the end of this, I would suggest playing with the Mudblood and Weaselbee like a good little boy and stop acting like something you never were and never will be."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "And what is that, exactly?"

Draco raised his eyebrows defiantly and smirked, walking backwards and then turning to get back to where he was going. "A hero."

* * *

><p>His stomach lurched when he first saw Kathleen. Her head was bandaged, her arm in a sling, and a black bruise was spreading from her scalp to halfway down her forehead.<p>

"Is she going to be alright?" He demanded, his tone much more worried than he would have liked.

"I have no reason to expect otherwise!" Madam Pomfrey replied, seemingly taken aback that he would even ask such a question. "Fractured skull and collarbone, nothing that I can't fix."

"Well she doesn't _look _fixed!" Draco argued.

"My my, I didn't know you were a healer, Mister Malfoy," she replied, her voice tinged with annoyance, "her bones are all mended, the concussion will take a bit more time. I don't want to meddle with the bruising until she's awake—make sure that everything else has been taken care of first. She should be in fine form by tomorrow afternoon. She just needs rest."

Somehow, this answer didn't satisfy him. Draco wasn't going to feel better until he heard her annoyingly Irish voice, then he could go back to what he needed to be doing. It wasn't that he wanted to be next to her while she was healing, just until she woke up.

He assured himself that he wasn't getting attached, that he wasn't actually feeling some kind of _remorse _that Kathleen had taken a bludger for him.

Pomfrey eyed him looking at her, a slightly amused look on her face. "You'll need to leave now, Draco. Kathleen needs to sleep."

He glared at her venomously. "I'm not disturbing her!"

"I'll be the judge of that," she said simply, "_out_."

* * *

><p>Halfway through the Quidditch celebration that night, Draco slipped away from the common room, firewhiskey heavy on his breath.<p>

He walked rather non-chalantly to the hospital wing—he was drunk and feeling overconfident. Besides, he was a prefect, no one could get him in trouble for being out after hours.

He snuck in quietly, careful not to wake her.

It was odd, seeing Kathleen lying there sleeping. He was so used to her arguing or flying around the pitch or causing havoc with her shoddy spells, the peacefulness didn't seem to suit her right.

He sat there quietly staring for a long time. Finally, without even thinking about it, he planted a gentle kiss on her cheek.

"Some might call this stalking," Kathleen mumbled without opening her eyes.

Despite himself, Draco smirked. "Stalking implies that you don't want me following you around."

"Mmm," Kathleen replied, rolling over to face him but still keeping her eyes closed. "You breathe really loudly, you know."

"I think you're just concussed," he scoffed defensively, and she shrugged, smiling.

"Draco?" she asked quietly, questioningly.

"Christ, you don't even stop talking when you're braindead," he muttered. "What?"

"I'm worried about my parents."

Draco's stomach dropped. She said it in such an innocent tone, like a child. He knew she wouldn't have brought it up if she wasn't so out of it, yet there was still a solemnity to her voice. He looked away from her and stood.

"Don't. They're fine."

"You don't…" she mumbled something else, but she slurred so quietly that he couldn't make it out. "Who was that woman?"

He froze. "What woman?"

"The woman at the Quidditch game. The woman in black."

His heart was hammering in his chest. He knelt down to Kathleen, wishing to cradle her in her dreams and Obliviate her at the same time. Instead, he kissed her softly on the lips, drinking in her scent, musky and spicy from the game, but still with undertones of cinnamon. She kissed him back, her hand weakly grabbing for his and holding onto it with the little strength that she had.

"Just sleep, O'Malley."


	11. I need you to ruin me

_A/N: Warning: some sexual content ahead. All credits for characters, settings and spells goes out to JK Rowling._

* * *

><p>Kathleen felt a hand brushing against her bruised forehead. She winced, slightly irritated to have been woken and choosing not to open her eyes.<p>

"Malfoy, what did I say about stalking?" She mumbled, fisting her sheets up to her face and curling her knees to her chest in order to drive the point that she wanted to sleep.

"_Pardon_?"

Kathleen opened one eye and found herself peering at Seamus and Dean. Instantly, she realized what an idiotic move speaking had been, but she couldn't think of anything to say except, "oh."

Seamus raised a disapproving eyebrow at her. "Stalking, eh?"

"It was a joke," Kathleen groaned, pulling her covers over her head. "Give me a break. I'm wounded."

"And _whiney_," Dean remarked, yanking the blanket back down. Kathleen glared at him venomously, but he simply shot her a dazzling smile in return. "Madam Pomfrey wants you to come down to breakfast with us."

"Did she actually say she wants me to, or just that I'm _allowed_?"

"What's the difference?" Seamus asked, smirking at Kathleen's grumpiness.

"I don't want to."

"Tough shit, O'Malley," Dean said happily, tossing her a set of Slytherin robes. "It'll do you good to get up for a bit."

"I'm doing fine, despite my near fatal injuries that I incurred yesterday, thanks!" she snapped irritably. "My head's in tip-top shape!"

"Well, with your grades, you could really only go up anyway," Seamus teased, but Kathleen could see in his eyes that he truly was relieved that she was up and talking. Seamus glanced back at Dean, who nodded in response, as if they had been silently communicating through stares. Dean got up and walked out of the hospital wing, saying he'd see Kathleen in the Great Hall.

"You alright?" Seamus said after a moment, his face serious.

"Well, I'm not sure black and blue suits my complexion," she lamented, "but I suppose I can live with it for a few days."

Seamus sort of half-smiled and nodded. "Pretty noble of you, Kath."

Kathleen wrinkled her nose. She hated being called 'Kath,' and Seamus knew it. "What was?"

"Taking a bludger for Malfoy."

"He's my team's seeker," she replied, perhaps a bit defensively. "You'd've done the same."

"Not if it was Malfoy."

Kathleen rolled her eyes. "This again? Why can't we all just be chums and put this house crap behind us?"

"Don't patronize me," Seamus muttered.

"Could you just trust me?" She questioned desperately.

"Seems that I don't have a choice, do I?" he retorted, but then sighed. "Kathleen, you're not thick. I know that. But you don't know the history and we all do. Why can't you trust _us_?"

"Do you think I'd be doing this blindly with you and Dean going on all the time about how evil Malfoy is?" she hissed.

"But you are going into it blindly!" Seamus yelled, his voice suddenly furious, his eyes ablaze. "Do you want to know the _real _Malfoy, Kathleen?"

She glared at him, but was silent.

"He lives in a family of Death Eaters, people who _torture and kill _people like me who believe that everyone deserves equal rights."

"People aren't their family," she replied angrily, though she didn't fully endorse those words. She knew that she was very much her family, which was why she had been so confused lately—everything that they had been was turned upside down in the past year.

"You think he's any different?" Seamus demanded. "I hate to break it to you, Kathleen, but he isn't. He was downright _gleeful _when the Chamber of Secrets was opened and the muggle-borns were being petrified. He takes pleasure in calling Hermione a worthless mudblood, and he's made it incredibly clear that he believes his pure-blood status puts him in a higher order than everyone else. You know what else? Harry says he's a Death Eater, and I'm not so sure I doubt it."

Kathleen was absolutely silent, her insides churning uncomfortably. Something about hearing those words coming from Seamus' mouth made them real. Kathleen had written Harry off as a bit of a crackpot—well-meaning, but off his rocker all the same. However, she knew Seamus, and she knew that he was neither gullible nor quick to make such a serious accusation. She didn't want to believe it. If Draco was a Death Eater, she could make no more excuses for him, or herself. How could she forgive someone that actually believed that people deserved to have their rights relinquished based on how they were _born_?

Especially when they were born like her, raised like her. They were her, and she was them. Muggles. Mudbloods. Blood traitors. None of the labels were quite accurate, yet they all seemed to suit her in some way or another.

"He's not," she said in a tone that was meant to be vehement, but came out as weak and fragmented. "I'll look, I'll find out. I know he's not. Just wait."

"Kathleen," he whispered in exasperation, almost admonishing her. He looked at her seriously, his eyes earnest. She couldn't stand to look back.

"I don't know if I can give him up."

The words tumbled from her mouth so quietly, so _sadly_, that she wasn't even sure that it was her that said them.

Seamus said nothing for several moments. He stared at the wall, rolling his tongue in his mouth. "I care about you, and I don't want you to get hurt. So long as you understand that, and you at least accept what I've said about Malfoy as a possibility… Well, I'm not going to just dump you on the side of the road, Kathleen."

Without warning, she fiercely hugged Seamus despite her full-body soreness. He closed his arms around her. "I'll be okay," she whispered. "I promise."

"Things are just so fucked up right now," he replied, "everyone's really scared."

"I know," Kathleen murmured, not wanting Seamus to let go. This was the closest she had felt to family since hers had left for America, and it was precious to her. Seamus and Dean were like her protective brothers, she was the raucous younger sister who couldn't seem to stay out of trouble.

However, he did let go. He tossed Kathleen's green robes into her face. "Hurry up and change. I'm starving."

* * *

><p>After lunch, Kathleen was deemed well enough to leave the hospital wing, though she was exempt from the rest of the day's classes and wasn't allowed to practice Quidditch for almost a week. She stayed in her dormitory, feeling rather sorry for herself. She knew that she needed to speak with Draco, but there was nothing in the world that she wanted to do less.<p>

Eventually, she nodded off, the exhaustion of head injury getting the better of her. She was awoken by the sound of her door closing.

She rubbed her eyes in annoyance, making out Malfoy's figure in the doorway.

"Are you _ever _going to learn to knock?"

"I did knock," he said slyly, "you were obviously sleeping."

"Well thanks for just inviting yourself in anyway," Kathleen grumbled, pushing her wild hair from her face and sitting up. "What do you want?"

She already knew the answer. His expression was one that she was becoming accustomed to—clouded, hazy eyes, hungry stare, lazy smirk. He wanted her. As well, it seemed that he was confident that he was going to get her this time.

"What a question, O'Malley," he murmured, sitting down ultra-casually in her chair and propping his legs up on the desk.

Suddenly, Kathleen was annoyed. She was injured, grumpy, and she had just damn near saved his life, and yet he _still _insisted on treating her like she was some dumb trout being baited with a worm. Worst of all, he refused to acknowledge what was becoming increasingly heavy between them: no matter how attracted they were to each other, they knew next to nothing about what the other believed. It was a recipe for a hurricane.

"You know what they're saying about you," Kathleen replied quietly, staring angrily at the wall.

Draco took his legs down and leaned forward, an eyebrow raised. "What's that?"

"They say you're just like your father."

Draco gave a snort of derision. "Right. And who's _they_?"

"Harry," she answered, finally looking at him, matching the defiance in his eyes. He sneered in disgust.

"And you believe anything dear Saint _Potter _tells you, then?"

"It's not just Harry, Draco—"

"I already landed you in detention, what else will you make me do to keep you from those Gryffindor prats?" he snapped, jealousy bleeding into his words.

"I'm not a bloody house elf, Malfoy! Don't even try to _pretend _that you have control over me—"

"Bullshit, O'Malley!" He yelled, leaning in close so his face was inches from hers. "I don't have to pretend because I _do_. As much as you hate it, as much as you've been fighting it with every stubborn hair on your stubborn head, you're _mine_!"

"Really?" she asked mockingly, anger blazing in her green eyes, "so I suppose that since _I'm _the one who's so controlled by _you,_ you wouldn't respect my wishes to get the _fuck_ out if I asked you to?"

"We'll never know," he breathed, his jaw jutting out in anger, "because you'd never ask."

"Show me your wrist," she demanded, breathing heavily.

His eyes flashed with contempt. "What?"

"You heard me!" Kathleen practically screamed.

"Don't make me do this," he whispered dangerously, his voice absolutely dripping with resentment.

_This is it, _she thought. _This is where it has to end_.

"You know we can't do this otherwise," she replied, her voice shaking.

He purposefully rolled up his sleeve, never taking his eyes from her face, a deep-seated anguish and contempt in his expression. She couldn't peel her eyes from his until he finally said "there. Take a look."

She glanced down and saw naked, unmarked flesh.

"O'Malley, I need you to remember something," he said, his voice oddly quiet. Suddenly, he was weak and brittle, an opposite of the show of anger he had just been displaying. "I never, never wanted to lie to you."

For once, she had complete faith that his words were the truth.

He leaned into her, his lips parted—almost touching hers. "Don't make me into a monster, O'Malley."

She shook her head slowly, words for once escaping her.

He nodded once, then moved into her, cupping the nape of her neck with his hands. The kiss was firm—not urgent like they had been before, but a longing need bled into it. He bit her lip gently, running his tongue over it.

She moaned, and suddenly Draco intensified. He forced her mouth open with his, kissing her wildly. Their breathing immediately became ragged; Kathleen desperately delved her fingers into his platinum hair, pulling, _begging _him for it. He responded with his hands, one holding the small of her back firmly, the other slowly and purposefully snaking up her skirt.

For a moment, panic rose in her chest. She hadn't a clue what she was doing and his fingers were on her thigh, climbing, _searching_, she didn't know how she was supposed to react, what was she supposed to do?

He caught her mouth as if sensing her anxiety, quieting her and inching his digits closer and closer, stroking and squeezing until his thumb finally ran over the most sensitive spot.

The contact immediately made her back arch and a groan escape her lips. Draco didn't relent, though—he immediately plunged his fingers inside of her, his wolfish grey eyes relishing watching her squirm with pleasure.

He was slow and gentle; skilled. His eyelids lowered lazily as he worked her into a frenzy. She could feel his hardness against her thigh and suddenly she realized she wanted more - she _needed_ more.

He yanked down her skirt and began hastily unbuckling his belt, staring into her eyes intently. Kathleen felt her cheeks flush.

"Take off your shirt, O'Malley," he commanded huskily.

She nodded, quickly slipping her blouse over her head. They were both bare, totally exposed to one another. She took in his body—sculpted, roped with thick muscle and commanding. His chest was heaving with anticipation.

"This is what you want?"

Without hesitation, Kathleen nodded.

He fiercely placed a kiss onto her forehead as he moved into her.

She cried out, not in pleasure, but because she was sure that her insides were ripping.

"Shh," he whispered, wrapping an arm behind her neck and kissing her forehead again protectively. "I don't want to hurt you, O'Malley."

True to his word, his movements slowed almost to a halt. He stroked into her shallowly, his face scrunched in concentration and his breaths coming out in jagged hisses. Kathleen began to relax a bit beneath him and allowed him to move, but her eyes remained screwed shut.

"O'Malley," Draco murmured, smoothing his hand over her hair. "Breathe. Look at me."

Slowly, she did as he asked, digging her nails into his skin. It was hurting less and less, but she couldn't quite let go yet.

"That's it," he whispered, dragging his lips across her collarbone, "hold onto me."

He was restrained and gentle, barely shifting his body at all, holding her tightly and whispering assurances to her all the while. Soon, she began moving in tandem with him, slowly, but enough to send Draco to the brink with the sudden response.

They remained entangled for several silent minutes. He held her head tightly to his chest and Kathleen could hear his heart going a million miles a minute. As their pulses began to slow, she could feel her eyelids growing heavy. She lay for a few moments, contemplating what had just happened. She was about to speak, but when she looked up at Draco, his eyes were closed and his face was relaxed.

She nestled into him contentedly and eventually matched his sleepy breathing.

* * *

><p>Draco sat in the common room as if he were in a haze. He had completely groomed himself to his usual state—neat hair, crisp shirt—but there was still an aura about him, as if he wasn't all there.<p>

He stared at his wrist. The concealment charm was beginning to wear off, the Dark Mark lightly reappearing, as if it were a scar.

_So you lied, what's the big fucking deal? You'd gone in there planning to anyway._

But she had actually asked. For some reason, that made things different. If she hadn't asked, he could have excused himself by saying that she must have not noticed it, or that he always keeps it under a charm. Now he had to accept that he'd intentionally deceived O'Malley.

It was necessary, but it didn't make him feel any less shitty.

"Well, well, well," Blaise commented as he collapsed beside Draco. "Someone's having a good day."

Draco just looked at him, his expression one of exasperation.

"Whoa, was she not any good? I don't believe it!" Blaise demanded, surprised.

"No," Draco breathed. "Believe me, it wasn't that." He exhaled, slumping down further into the sofa.

"Then what's your problem?" Blaise questioned.

"O'Malley's not like us," Draco whispered, staring at the floor.

"You don't say," Blaise retorted sarcastically.

"Oh, shut it, will you?" he snapped. "I'm trying to have a conversation with you."

"Can't shut it then, can I?" Blaise said happily, smiling nastily at Draco. When his friend rolled his eyes, he added, "look, mate, I'm just trying to cheer you up a bit. Say whatever you need to say."

Draco nodded and rolled his shoulders tiredly. "Her mother's a blood traitor."

Blaise's expression instantly turned serious. "Is _she _a blood traitor?"

"No," Draco lied. He had purposely avoided the subject with O'Malley, but from the few times it had been breached, he could tell that she wasn't much for blood supremacy.

"What kind of blood traitor are we talking about?"

"Does the name Margaret Clancey ring a bell?" Draco asked darkly.

Blaise froze, staring at Draco incredulously. "Malfoy, you can't be serious."

Again, he shrugged, but inside he was screaming. God, he'd fucked up this time.

"I don't know about all this," Blaise said uneasily.

"Don't you think I'm aware what this looks like?" Draco demanded. "I just… can't get her off my mind. You can't blame me, Blaise."

"I'm not talking about what it _looks _like, Malfoy," Blaise hissed. "Do you realize what will happen to her if she gets stuck in the middle of our circles? To her _parents_?" he stared at Draco. "To you?"

"No one knows who she is," he murmured. "She'll be fine."

"And you think she'll take it kindly when she finds out who you are? What your family would have done with hers? You can't keep that sort of thing from someone."

"It's not as if I'm marrying the girl, Zabini!"

"She's a nice girl, don't do this to her. She'll have enough problems once the Dark Lord gains more power with such a dirty family."

"It's not going to get to that point," Draco replied resolutely. "I just need to get her out of my system. By the time she finds out who I am, it won't matter anymore."

Blaise regarded him skeptically. "Keep telling yourself that, mate," he said in exasperation, standing up again and heading out of the common room.

Draco squeezed his eyes shut. Everything Blaise had said was the truth, yet he refused to acknowledge it. Worst of all, sleeping with O'Malley had the exact opposite effect he had wanted—now he was only trapped more deeply, more attached, more completely _fucked _than he had been before.

He had to have her again. He wanted Kathleen as _his_. He didn't want to lie again to do it, but what choice did he have? He was really just protecting his family and her by lying to her. There wasn't anything else he could do without risking his own life and his family's, and getting her caught up into a mess unlike one she'd ever known before.

That is, there wasn't anything to do if he was going to do continue on with her. He didn't disillusion himself—he _would_ keep things going with O'Malley. She was the small ray of light in his life and he certainly wasn't going to extinguish it himself.

How long can you allow your selfishness to rule before the damage becomes irreversible?

* * *

><p><em>AN: You guys are all so lovely for reading and leaving me reviews, thanks a bunch. I tried really hard not to make a cliffhanger at the end of this chapter, I think I did okay? Haha. I finally gave in and let it happen, at least ;) Any feedback is appreciated, I will write as fast as possible!_


	12. Courage

**Chapter 12**

_A/N:_ _Bit of a heavy chapter ahead, folks._

_Thanks for all of the reviews and support! You're all lovely._

* * *

><p>Kathleen wondered if everyone would be able to tell what she'd done.<p>

She didn't regret it, but she acknowledged a sort of sheepish blush creeping onto her cheeks when she walked up to Dean and Seamus. She felt like she was glowing, which was good for the warmth it brought her, but it also made her self-conscious. Kathleen scolded herself; she was being ridiculous. _How could they know?_

When they saw her, Dean's face dropped and Seamus muttered, "well. The ferret wins once again."

So much for that.

"Hm?" Kathleen asked, as if she were oblivious.

"You finally let him snog you," Dean replied a little disdainfully.

Was it worth denying that she had even _kissed _him, considering what she'd done with him now?

"I didn't—"

"For Chrissakes, Kathleen, save it," Seamus snapped. Instantly, the glow that she'd been basking in dampened, and Kathleen felt as if someone had just dumped a pail of cold water on her head.

Kathleen glared at the two of them, taken aback by their hostility. She knew that they hated Draco, but it's not as if _she _had done anything to them, was it?

She wordlessly fumed at them, but Dean filled the silence.

"We just hoped you would have a bit more sense," Dean said quietly, "and restraint."

The words hit Kathleen like a slap in the face. "_Excuse me?_"

"What did I _just_ talk to you about?" Seamus raged. "Do you listen to _nothing _I say?"

"It seems to be a reciprocal problem," Kathleen muttered. "But for your information, I did listen. We had a row about it and I made him show me his wrist."

"…And?" Dean asked curiously.

"What do you think?" she demanded, horrified. "Do you two actually believe I would have let him touch me if he'd had the Dark Mark?"

Dean backed away a bit, and Seamus' expression crinkled into confusion. Finally, Seamus said, "okay."

Kathleen calmed a bit. "Alright."

"We still think he's a git."

"I'm well aware."

"And I don't want him to be hanging around with us—"

"Believe me, _not _going to be an issue, Seamus."

"And you still need to be careful. You know he's a liar!"

"I heard you the first three hundred times. Are you finished?"

Seamus clenched his jaw, obviously wanting to say more. He seemed to be fumbling with words, but he settled on "I don't like it one bit, Kath."

Dean shrugged and nodded.

"Be that as it may," Kathleen said, trying to keep her tone patient, "it's not as if we're even dating and it's my choice anyway. He can be a prat, yes. Fine. But he's _not _evil."

"Just because he's not marked doesn't mean he's not with them in spirit," Seamus muttered darkly.

* * *

><p>In the room of requirement, Draco replayed the scene for the umpteenth time in his mind. Freckled skin dancing and curls falling; O'Malley finally allowing him to mold her beautiful, full lips with his; filling her and feeling how entirely small and <em>virginal <em>she was.

That part had been a surprise. Not that he'd expected that she'd slept with someone before—she was only in fifth year after all, and most people didn't start as early as he had—but with Kathleen's rebellious nature and wild good looks, he didn't think twice that she would have been at least _touched _before. The shock in her eyes and the feeling when he explored underneath her skirt exemplified otherwise. It had been both a blessing on a curse: knowing that he was her first gave him a proud sense of possession over the girl that only fuelled his lust, but he also had to hold back considerably. He made it much quicker than he would have liked to limit her pain and soreness, and for the same reason, he barely went halfway inside of her.

He needed her again. He _had _to have her.

Draco placed the bird into the vanishing cabinet. It stared at him in panic as he slammed the door behind it. He heard it flapping violently for a few moments, then there was silence. Triumphantly, he opened the door. The bird had disappeared.

_Now we're getting somewhere._

Somehow, the small victory didn't ease the tension in his stomach.

It was beginning to get more difficult to ignore the guilt that was niggling at him, particularly when he was trying to orchestrate the death of the old man. Blaise's voice was ringing in his head like a damn siren. "_Do you realize what will happen to her if she gets stuck in the middle of our circles? To her parents?"_

What could possibly happen to O'Malley? She wasn't a sympathizer, but she wasn't a crusader like Potter and Weaselbee either. They wouldn't target her—it would be a waste of time. Besides, it wasn't as if he actually _cared _about what happened to her after he got a few good fucks out of her.

Except that he did.

He could no longer delude himself. Draco had fallen for Kathleen, and he hated her for it. Her temper, beauty and caring nature had come together to make an intoxicating cocktail that he'd become addicted to. Sex would never be enough. The only thing that would be enough would be to have her as his and have _everyone _know it, and he might as well stick her head on a skewer. His aunt would murder her and maim him if word got out that he was dating a half-blood.

Not to mention her parents. If the Death Eaters had that one reason to go after her mother the blood traitor, they would be goners.

He had three options: tell O'Malley the truth and never see her again, end things quietly, or try to keep the relationship behind closed doors and disregard the consequences. The first option was a straight write-off. No way in _hell _was he going to give himself up only to lose her, too. That left options two and three. His immediate instinct was to go with three—old habits die hard, and selfishness was his most finely honed trait—but he couldn't bring himself to do it.

He could stand to make her hate him if that was what needed to be done, but he couldn't face ruining her life. Finding out that she was dating a Death Eater and having to face the wrath of Voldemort's army—which she would, eventually, he couldn't convince himself any differently—would ruin her life. There would be nothing left of it.

Draco's head was pounding. How had he managed to make his life worse than it already was? He didn't want to do this. He had _just _gotten O'Malley. How was it fair that he had to give her up so soon?

_Because you shouldn't have started it in the first place, asshole. You knew that._

He growled in utter frustration and wrenched the door to the cabinet open again.

Lying motionless in a pitiful heap, the bird had returned. Its eyes were filled with death.

* * *

><p>Draco's mother combed his hair in silence, delicately handling his platinum strands with her fingers, despite that it was shorter than it had been growing up and there was little to untangle. He wasn't allowing her to do it because it felt good—really, he felt incredibly uncomfortable—but because it seemed to calm her. It was something she'd done as long as he could remember in times of trouble, so when she came behind him while he was sitting on his bed, he just allowed her to do it.<p>

The air was incredibly tense. His mother, ever the matriarch, was unnervingly quiet. She wasn't talkative at the best of times, but since his father had been put in Azkaban, her silence had become more and more pervasive… especially since Aunt Bella had been showing herself at the Manor so often.

"You didn't have Occlumency this weekend, Draco," she said matter-of-factly. He could see her almost expressionless face in the vanity mirror, but he couldn't bear to make eye contact with her. He knew that the statement was really more of a question, but he didn't want to answer it.

"No," he replied quietly, studying his knuckles. He really wasn't sure _why _he had come home this weekend. Something about O'Malley had made him homesick—more so than usual. Draco didn't know what he had been expecting, though; his mother wouldn't be able to fix this for him.

Narcissa stared at her son, her expression cold yet somehow still loving. Draco never knew how someone could be so reserved and still manage to fill him with security and sometimes even affection. "Bellatrix tells me you're still playing Quidditch."

Despite himself, his stomach lurched. Instantly Draco felt guilty—he wasn't focusing on what he should be, and now his mother knew it. She would never say as much, but he worried she would feel that he was betraying their family for the sake of his own pleasure.

"She shouldn't have shown up there, she could've bloody well gotten herself—"

"Draco," she interrupted softly, a warning almost evident in her tone. She wanted to know what was wrong with him. _That makes two of us, mother._

"Mother, I'm fine—" he started, but was interrupted by her swiftly and fiercely hugging her son's neck from behind, her eyes still fixed forward onto nothingness.

"Draco," she whispered, her voice quavering just slightly, "_please _be careful. I can't…" She didn't bother finishing her sentence, he knew how it ended: _I can't lose you, too. _He crossed his hand up to his mother's shoulder and squeezed encouragingly, agony stabbing at his heart. Draco knew that she didn't give a damn if he served the Dark Lord. She just wanted him to live to see his seventeenth birthday.

"He won't do anything to me," he lied in an assuring voice.

"Don't be foolish," she hissed, tears brimming in her eyes. He couldn't take this. He had only seen his mother cry one other time, when she had gotten home from Lucius' Azkaban proceeding. She didn't know that he was at the manor, and when he walked into the room and saw her tear-filled eyes, she said nothing and walked out, her head held high. "The Dark Lord does what he pleases to whoever crosses his path if he feels they deserve it. Look at the Blood Traitors, Draco! He kills to make an example of them and he doesn't regard your father as much higher at the moment."

"Blood traitors," he repeated in a whisper. _Shit. _"But he doesn't waste time going _after _them, does he?"

His mother looked at him sharply, as if woken from a trance. "He won't need to go after you, Draco. He knows where you are."

He shook his head, knowing he really shouldn't press on but doing so anyway. "No, I mean the blood traitors, he wouldn't go out of his way for them, would he?"

"Depends on how intolerable he finds their actions," she replied distantly. _How does being the greatest blood traitor alive rank on the intolerable scale? _His insides turned to ice—Blaise was right. He and Kathleen were on opposite sides of a war, and Kathleen's family was liable to get burned, particularly if they were accused of trying to tempt a Malfoy into betrayal. _"She's a nice girl, don't do this to her. She'll have enough problems once the Dark Lord gains more power with such a dirty family."_

Touché, Zabini.

His mother drew away from him, morphing terrifyingly easily back to her usual image of cool calmness. She began to leave his bedroom, but he couldn't bear to watch her go just yet.

"Mum," he said uncharacteristically. It was always _mother_, never mum—it was too informal, too caring. He probably hadn't called her that since he left for Hogwarts when he was eleven. She turned to him in surprise, a spark of warmth in her eyes.

"I'll do what needs to be done," Draco said resolutely, channeling his father's arrogance and self-assuredness into his voice. Tears freely fell from Narcissa's eyes now as she embraced him tightly.

"I'm so sorry, Draco," she whispered, barely stifling a sob. "I would do anything for another way."

So would he.

* * *

><p>Kathleen hurried out of Charms, feeling a pair of eyes on her. Harry had been dogging her for the past few days and she did <em>not <em>want to talk with him. What happened between her and Draco was her own business, and she knew Draco would be livid if he found out that she'd been even _looking _at Harry.

However, Harry had obviously noticed Kathleen's evasiveness. When she rounded the corner, Ron was standing in wait for her. She dropped her book bag in surprise.

"Sorry," he mumbled, sheepishly stooping to help her pick up her things. When she stood again, Harry was there.

"Kathleen, I need to talk to you," Harry said urgently.

Kathleen bit the inside of her cheek and sighed. As much as Draco wouldn't like it, she had to tell them. She needed everyone to know that he wasn't the monster that he was made out to be. She especially had to set Harry straight. She nodded and led the two to a more secluded hallway.

"I really need you to look at Malfoy's wrist, Kathleen. I need to have something prove that he's a Death Eater."

"I already—wait, you need something to _prove _it? As in you're already convinced that he is one?" Kathleen asked defensively.

"Well, the signs are certainly pointing that way," he said gently. Ron's face was beet red and he seemed incredibly uncomfortable.

"_What _signs?" she demanded.

"Well," Harry replied, his voice now taking on the defensive tone, "no one ever knows where he is, do they? And with his dad in Azkaban, Voldemort's one short now—"

"Don't you think that's a bit presumptive? He goes home a lot—"

"Well that would make perfect sense, wouldn't it?" Harry pointed out passionately.

"I wasn't finished!" Kathleen snapped. "He may be gone all the time, but I've seen it, Harry. There's no Dark Mark."

Harry was dumbstruck. He stood there with his mouth open, evidently unable to absorb what she just said.

"You're sure it was the right arm?" Ron asked uneasily.

"I saw both of them," Kathleen confirmed. "I'm sorry, Harry. I know you were just trying to do the right thing, but you're barking up the wrong tree."

Harry seemed to snap out of his trance. "Did you use _Finite?_ Maybe he was using a disillusionment charm—"

"Mate, are you hearing what you sound like?" Ron asked gently, resting his hand on Harry's back sympathetically. "You've been going on nothing and now you've got someone who's actually _seen _it saying it's not there. Malfoy's not that smart. You need to let it go."

Harry nodded, though Kathleen could tell that he was completely disregarding Ron's words. "Right. Sorry for bothering you, Kathleen. Thanks for humoring me."

Kathleen shrugged. "I have nothing against what you were trying to do, Harry. But Draco's not going to lead you to it."

"I'm not going to lead him to what, O'Malley?"

Kathleen's insides turned to ice as she looked up to see Draco with a deep sneer on his face. He clamped a hand over her wrist and tugged her towards him.

"Leave her alone, Malfoy," Ron protested as Harry stepped toward them.

"_You_ stay out of it," Draco warned, "I don't think you're fat old mother could stand another of her brood in St. Mungo's… if she would even notice, that is. I don't know that she can keep track of so many unremarkable children."

Ron was about to lunge at Malfoy, his teeth bared, but Harry held him back. Before Ron could shake him off, Draco had led Kathleen roughly to the common room and slammed the portrait shut.

"You know, they might not hate you so much if you weren't so bloody rude to them," Kathleen said disgustedly, wrenching her wrist from his grip.

He grabbed her wrists again and half-shoved her into the wall, his eyes on fire with rage, his lip curled into a snarl.

"What the fuck is your problem?" she demanded, wriggling under his hold.

"Going to Potter behind my back and telling him all about me, are you?" he spat, moving his face closer to hers. "You think you're going to make a fool out of me, O'Malley?"

Kathleen twisted and swiftly kneed him between the legs. When he bent over, howling with pain, she shoved him back.

"Don't you _ever _touch me like that again!" she yelled, drawing her wand and pointing it at his doubled-over figure. "You're a bloody coward and a _fool_ if you think that you can control me by being a brute!"

He glared with hatred at her, his lips pursed into a thin line.

"And for your information, I was actually doing you a favour!"

He laughed coldly. "Oh, I'd _love _to hear how you think going behind my back to Saint Potter is going _me _a favour!"

"I was clearing your name," she replied angrily, not taking her wand or her eyes off of him.

He stared at her blankly as he stood, his lips parting in confusion. "What do you mean, clearing my name?"

"Harry seems to have it in his head that you're a Death Eater. I was setting him straight."

Draco didn't reply for a long time. He seemed to be deep in thought when he suddenly whispered dangerously, "stay out of my affairs, Kathleen." Then he turned and began to walk off, but she was having none of it.

"Oh no, no no no," she called angrily, catching up with him. "I do your homework, I make sure you don't work yourself to death, I try to clean up your reputation and I save you from a bludger! You are _not _going to make me the bad one, Malfoy!"

"You have _no _idea what you're doing," Draco replied, articulating each word very clearly. "And I would have gotten out of the way of that bludger. I didn't need you."

"Like hell you would have!" she scoffed sarcastically. "And why won't you tell me who that woman was that you were staring at?"

"_I said stay out of my affairs!" _he roared so furiously that Kathleen actually felt a wave of fear. "You know what, O'Malley? I think you need to be taught a lesson. Get your quidditch gear on."

She did a double-take. "What?"

"You heard me."

"Why would I need my quidditch gear?"

"Because you need to prove to me that you deserve to stay on the team," he said simply.

"What the hell does this have to do with quidditch?"

"Does it fucking _matter?_" he snarled. "I'm the captain, and I say that you need to show your worthiness for the team. Do you want to get kicked off or not?"

"You can't be serious!" she protested. "That's twisted and you _know _it!"

"Mmm," he replied without emotion. "Meet me on the pitch in ten minutes or you can kiss quidditch goodbye."

* * *

><p>He was punishing her. Defending him to Potter was too far. The web was getting too thick, too tangled. He needed to cut all ties while he was still able to. He was going to make her hate him.<p>

She showed up on the pitch nearly five minutes early, her head high and her posture defiant. She didn't utter a word of complaint or protest as he ordered her to run laps around the pitch. He was waiting for her to break, but she wouldn't. She kept her strides long and agile as her ponytail bounced behind her. Two laps, three, four, five…

Sweat was collecting on her forehead. Change of plan. He instructed her to do strength exercises—pushups, plank, mountain climbers, whatever he could think of for as long as she could stand it to make her miserable. Her face began to redden and she was breathing heavily, but she showed no sign of relenting. Damn it, she was stubborn.

He scrutinized her, feeling his resolve weakening. She was breaking him down. Why couldn't she just hate him like everyone else? Why did she have to care? Why the _hell_ was she putting up a fight for a piece of shit like him?

* * *

><p>"Enough," he said finally, his arms crossed. Kathleen collapsed onto the ground and panted. Her muscles were twitching and absolutely screaming with exhaustion—she didn't know if she'd be able to stand again. She looked up at Draco defiantly, but to her surprise, he didn't look angry. He looked defeated, tired.<p>

He crouched down beside her, his expression tortured. He stared at her brokenly, then looked at the ground as if ashamed.

"I'm sorry, O'Malley," he said with an odd sort of clarity. "I'm sorry for doing this to you," he whispered barely audibly, almost to himself.

Before she could reply, he slipped his hand behind her neck and pulled her into him. He pressed his lips against hers pleadingly, his other hand bringing her body as close into his as he could.

She should have squirmed away for how he'd treated her, but this was different than before. For the first time ever, Malfoy was openly in _pain_—she could feel it in the kiss. It felt like with every movement, he was admitting defeat to her, and himself. She kissed him back, raking her fingers through his hair, trying to comfort him.

He held her so tightly it was as if he feared that she would evaporate if he let go. He stopped kissing her and just rocked her slowly in the middle of the quidditch pitch. She was shocked—what had gotten into him? Draco Malfoy was _not _emotional like this.

"You wouldn't need to apologize if you'd stop being so bipolar," Kathleen said simply.

He didn't say anything right away. Finally, he pulled her back and looked at her solemnly. "I need you to understand something."

She nodded.

"You aren't just a girl to me," he said with absolute seriousness.

"I kn—"

"I'm not finished," he interrupted. "Just because you mean more to me doesn't mean that I won't ruin your life."

Kathleen frowned in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"Exactly what I said," he answered resolutely. "I'll destroy anything, whether or not it's what I want."

"You're being ridiculous," Kathleen replied defensively. "You won't _have _to do anything, Draco. You have choices. I know that you're a good person deep down. You need to stop listening to everyone—you're _not _evil. I know better than that."

He looked away from her, guilt written all over his face. He placed a soft kiss on her lips before standing.

"Just remember what I said."

With that, he spun around slowly and walked from the quidditch pitch, and Kathleen knew that he was turning his back on her in more ways than one.


	13. The Walk

_A/N: Warnings: this chapter is dark and contains sexual content._

_I changed things up a bit and added Snape's POV for the first part of this chapter. Please don't take it as pervy - it's not intended to be. Think of him more as watching over things._

_Thank you everyone for your support. I worked very hard on this chapter, and it's the only one that I've had firmly in my head from the very beginning. I've been agonizing on how to execute it, so I would love to have your feedback on it._

_All credits to JK Rowling for Harry Potter._

* * *

><p>Near the beginning, Kathleen McCormack had fuelled a rage that Severus Snape thought had been extinguished many years ago.<p>

He was startled when she walked into the Great Hall with such quiet defiance. The curly strawberry hair—lighter than hers had been, granted—the green eyes, the freckled skin, the kindness that emanated from her. He immediately felt ill—he had seen many girls that had looked like Lily since she had died, but never had one _reminded _him so much of her. He quickly excused himself from the head table and had to go compose himself, he needed to calm his anguished head.

Despite all that, he had been wrong. The girl was an utter embarrassment in magic. It had angered him—it was as if this McCormack was trying to insult Lily: looking like her, but possessing none of the intelligence that had made him fall in love with her in the first place. He detested the girl. For a fleeting, blissful moment, he had felt like he was looking at his Lily, alive and sitting in front of him, eyes twinkling. No. This girl was a sham, an illusion. He intended to punish her for it, for reopening the wounds that he had worked so hard to jade over.

Snape insulted her. He failed her papers, though not poorly written, just because he wanted to. He gave her unnecessarily complicated homework to get her back for even _attempting _to seem as brilliant as Lily was, to show this McCormack just how foolish she really was.

But had he been wrong a second time?

The more he pushed the girl, the more she pushed back. She outrightly refused to give up as everyone had been pressuring her to. She simply wouldn't be defeated. The stubborn dignity that she held _was _reminiscent of the girl he had fallen in love with over three decades ago.

Then Draco had come with the vandalized clothes and the request to keep her from Hogsmeade, where a deadly curse would be released. It was too much. Too close. He refused to let the same story play out again, he had warned the boy.

With time, Snape had become rational and accepted that this Kathleen had nothing to do with his Lily. However, he still couldn't grapple with the fact that Draco was making the exact same mistake as he had. He'd at least had the choice to leave the Death Eaters. Draco had no such choice. He would put Kathleen McCormack—the blood traitor's daughter—right into the sightline of the Death Eaters. Draco would lose Kathleen, just like Snape had lost Lily.

Snape had warned him.

Draco couldn't do this. Snape could see the boy staring at her and he knew that he hadn't listened. If he cared about her, he would cast her off.

He pondered this. Would he have been able to cast Lily off if he had actually managed to hold her in the first place?

* * *

><p>Draco had all but disappeared from Hogwarts, and as time moved on, Kathleen had a growing sense of uneasiness. She didn't know where he went during his absences, but on the rare occasion that she did get a glance of him, all she received was a tired glare and a cold shoulder. The Slytherin house was abuzz with rumours about him, but it was all speculation. The only person who seemed uninterested in the gossip was Blaise, who surely must have known more, but he gave nothing away to Kathleen.<p>

Regularly, she would have turned to Seamus and Dean with her worries. The three had become inseparable, especially since Dean and Ginny's relationship was beginning to resemble World War III. But somehow, Kathleen didn't know how to voice what it was she had to say—first of all, she didn't know _what _to say, but she also wasn't keen on divulging that she had dived into bed with Draco, or that he had thrown her into the cold just as quickly. It seemed that the only redeeming point of the current state of their fucked up relationship was that Seamus and Dean were silently pleased as punch that she wasn't hanging off of Draco.

Kathleen wasn't one to wear her heart on her sleeve. When he blithely ignored her, she wore a mask of cool indifference. Inside, she was being stabbed right in her lungs; she couldn't breathe, her heart was screaming to be put out of its misery. She wanted him back. She still couldn't understand what the hell he had meant on the Quidditch pitch. She had tried to talk to him, but he always seemed to slip out of the room when she turned her head.

A taunting voice inside her mind told her that he had only wanted her for sex, and once he'd gotten it, he was disappointed. She was young and inexperienced while he was powerful and an object of desire to almost any girl.

Kathleen couldn't come to terms with that. She refused to believe that after all the effort, the trips to emotional _hell _that they had brought upon one another, it only boiled down to lust. But the longer she waited, the more defeated she felt. She still held her head high and refused to sacrifice her pride, but he had ripped her into pieces. He didn't seem to care that she was gone.

And yet…

She finally saw him at a meal in the great hall. Kathleen had taken to sitting with the Gryffindors full-time—Daphne was always followed by Pansy, and Blaise had become oddly quiet and unwelcoming lately. She was sitting between Dean and Seamus and joking with some of the other Gryffindors when she felt the familiar coldness of his stare. She looked up and there he was, his eyes flickering with jealousy. No smile, no warmth; not even a proper acknowledgement.

This was too much. Aggravated, she stood and stalked over to him without even a goodbye to her tablemates. She pulled him away to just outside of the great hall, unable to stand it any longer.

"What's the matter with you?" he hissed, stealing glances over his shoulder.

"I need to talk with you," she said, willing her voice to be strong.

He rolled his eyes, evidently annoyed. "I'd really rather you didn't."

Kathleen glared at him. "That's how it's going to be, then? You can't even pretend you're interested in conversation with me?"

"God damnit, O'Malley," he said, waving her off and rubbing his face in agitation. "That's not what I meant, I…" He paused, shaking his head as if trying to wake himself up. "Fine. We'll talk." He shoved his hands into his pockets and stalked towards the common room, as if he had been expecting this but was hoping he could have avoided it completely.

She sat opposite on his desk chair while he brooded on his bed. He refused to look at her, though his blue-grey eyes were brimming with contempt. Kathleen said nothing at first, she only stared at him, trying to understand his bristling attitude.

"Well?" he demanded sharply.

"Why are you being such an ass?" she countered without missing a beat. She hadn't meant to be quite that brusque, but sometimes her tongue reacted as quickly as her temper.

Draco laughed bitterly. "Good. This is just what I need."

"_Excuse _me?"

"An overbearing bint insulting me and begging for emotional reinforcement even though _I _haven't done anything wrong!"

Kathleen was speechless. She nodded, her eyes unfocused, then immediately stood and headed for the door.

Draco seemed to want to allow her to walk out as she intended, but as soon as her hand touched the doorknob, he closed his hand over her other wrist. For a moment he was silent and he refused to look at her. Then he looked up at the ceiling and heaved a painful sigh.

"What do you want, O'Malley?"

"Why are you so Jekyll and Hyde?"

He stared at her as if she were speaking in tongues. "Jackal and _what?_"

She rolled her eyes, forgetting that muggle stories weren't shared in the wizarding world. "You act one way one second, and then the next you've completely changed into stone."

"It's none of your damn business why I am the way I am," he muttered, still avoiding eye contact, but he didn't release her. "My life's rather complicated, alright?"

"So why don't you just _tell _me about it so that I can understand?" Kathleen pleaded. "You don't need to be so bloody miserable all of the time!"

"_You're _the one fucking _making _me miserable!" he boomed, but he immediately seemed to regret the outburst.

"Then why are you still holding onto me?" Kathleen asked darkly, raising her eyebrows at him tauntingly like he did so often to her.

He immediately dropped her arm, though he continued to stare at her hand. His expression was unreadable. "You can't understand."

"Will you at least give me a chance?" she demanded. "I'm trying to get it, I'm trying to help you, but you just close yourself off like a bloody hermit and then wonder why no one's being kind to you!"

"I can't," he whispered furiously, staring angrily at his feet now. "I can't and I won't. But just because I don't spend every waking minute worshipping you doesn't mean I don't _want _you—"

"Oh, give me a bloody break!" Kathleen snarled. "You _know _that's not what I want. All I'm saying is that if you're going to cut me off, I think that I at least deserve an explanation."

Draco just scoffed and rolled his eyes, so Kathleen just threw her arms up into the air and stalked towards the door.

"Where do you think you're going?" he demanded, standing and blocking her way.

"As much as I love being berated and ignored, I think I'll go hang around someone who actually respects me," Kathleen said clearly, pushing him to the side.

He caught her around her waist. "Back to bloody Finnigan again, are we? Or maybe Potter this time, just to really make me angry?"

"Is jealousy your way of showing that you give a damn about someone?" Kathleen spat. "Because nothing says 'I care about you' like 'let me control you like a bloody infant!'"

"Don't you _dare _accuse me of not caring for you, Kathleen!"

"Prove it, then!" she charged.

"Be careful what you wish for, princess," he breathed dangerously, his eyes dark with rage. "You want to know why you make me miserable, O'Malley?"

She was about to reply when he slipped a silencing finger over her mouth, pressing her between himself and the door.

"_Listen _to me," he hissed. He leaned down and began to kiss her neck ferociously. "I think about you every waking moment and it _kills _me inside not to have you as mine, and then to see you go off with Thomas and Seamus-_fucking_-Finnigan and laugh with them like a lovesick schoolgirl!" He grabbed a fistful of her hair and moved her head down so that his lips were pressed against her ear. "You think this is what I wanted?"

Kathleen tried to buck him off with her hips, but he was much stronger and much bigger than her. She could feel that he was hard, which infuriated her. Why did things always have to be so _angry _with Malfoy?

Why didn't the anger deter her from him?

"Why don't you _change _it, then?"

He scoffed angrily and looked directly into her eyes. "I _can't_, O'Malley! Do you have any idea who I am?"

Kathleen rolled her eyes and turned her head away from him. "Well we all know you're _far _too important for the likes of me—"

"_Shut up, will you?"_ Draco called, forcing her to look at him. "That's not what I bloody well meant, you idiot girl! If my family found out I was dating a half-blood, you would be dismembered, do you understand?"

That certainly struck her. She stared at him in confusion for several seconds before she said in a small voice, "You don't need to protect me from your family, Draco."

"Then who will? You? The girl who can't even properly disarm another wizard?" He stared at her seriously. "My family has more power and wealth than you could ever _imagine, _O'Malley! They can and _would_ destroy you!"

"So why are you bothering with me, then?" Kathleen asked quietly.

"Search me," he replied, irritated, "Merlin knows I shouldn't."

Despite his words, he kissed her fiercely, clawing his hands into her hair.

"Draco—"

"Unfortunately," he breathed, suddenly grabbing her bum and lifting her onto his bed, "you and I don't seem to be meant for clean breaks."

Immediately, he straddled her, pinning her down with his hips and roughly feeling underneath her blouse. Kathleen tried to keep rational and absorb what he'd told her—that they wouldn't ever be able to be anything more than what they were right now—but her head was buzzing and her nerves were going off like fireworks.

"Maybe we shouldn't do this," she finally gasped out.

He glared at her, danger in his eyes. "You and I both know that we shouldn't. That doesn't mean we're not going to."

"Draco—"

"Tell me to stop," he breathed, sucking on her collarbone and biting her neck.

She stared at him, the words once again catching in her throat. She didn't want him to stop, he knew it.

"Remember that I offered you a chance out," he whispered.

Before she could ask what he meant, he pushed her legs apart and filled the space with his fingers. She cried out and began to writhe with the intensity, but he clamped his free arm over her stomach to keep her from interfering.

"This won't be like last time," he said huskily, using his fingers deftly. She fisted the sheets with her hands and bit her lip. Kathleen slid her hands under his shirt and pulled it over his head—she was far too emotional and wound up to fiddle with buttons now. He wasn't quite so gentle, ripping her blouse open and wrapping his arms around her so that their naked chests were pressed against one another, matched in heaving breaths.

He kissed her hard and without apology. She wrapped her legs around him and moaned when he ground his pelvis into hers. Kathleen weaved her hands around his neck gently, her heart hammering in her chest, then she pressed her head against his chest, clinging to him. She wanted to stay there forever, just like that, temporarily forgetting that it was just that—temporary.

He brought her chin up with his knuckle and looked at her as if seeing her for the first time. His grey eyes almost seemed to have colour in them, and Kathleen saw something unfamiliar in his expression: vulnerability and fear. She hadn't remembered him looking this way since that day in Dumbledore's office... That was _so_ long ago.

"Please don't leave again," Kathleen whispered, feeling her own guard crumbling down. Looking strong in his eyes, having pride beyond all things, not caring about something so trivial as some blonde boy, it didn't matter now. All that mattered in that moment was what she was holding in her hands.

"O'Malley," he murmured, squeezing his eyes shut painfully. He kissed her fiercely on the cheek and held her as tightly as he could. He moved into her slowly, but much more deeply than the last time. Kathleen scrunched her face in pain, but she refused to pull away or to tell him to be gentler. He wanted all that she had this time, and she would give it to him.

Draco moaned as he drove into her. She dug her nails into his back, it _burned_, but she craved the closeness that it gave them. She matched his movements, despite the pain and despite the small voice telling her to stop. She couldn't stop. Not now.

He cried out almost in frustration and picked her up, her legs still wrapped around his torso, and he pushed her up against the wall, holding her ass. Draco thrust into her hard—so hard she thought that she might tear in half—all while his grey eyes bore into hers. She dug her heels harder into his back so that he could go even deeper, and then she began to lose herself in the intensity. She held him close, almost unable to see for all of the frustrated pleasure building in her until finally Draco's movements became urgent and desperate.

An uncontrolled moan escaped from her as Draco yelled out, "oh God."

They trembled into each other, eyes closed, for a moment before they slid down the wall and wound up on the floor, limbs tangled and panting. They said nothing. Nothing needed to be said. There they sat for who knows how long, contentedly exhausted and not wanting the moment to come to an end. Eventually, Kathleen knew she had to go meet up with Seamus and Dean before they had the Scotland Yard after her. She stood and began to collect her clothes that had been strewn about the room. Once she was finally dressed, she planted a firm kiss on Draco's lips. He was still sitting on the floor, leaning against the bed. She moved to leave.

"O'Malley," Draco called.

She turned to him. "Yes, Malfoy?"

"Don't ever let any Professor tell you that you don't know how to cast a spell."

She rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out at him, but inside she was positively beaming.

* * *

><p>Kathleen dodged a snowball with such conviction, one might have thought it was a bludger. Dean had snuck up from behind, however, and managed to pelt her on the back of the head. She responded by tackling him, only to be face-washed with snow by Seamus seconds later.<p>

"Not fair, Finnigan!" she cried, scooping snow with her mittens and haphazardly shoveling it at him. Soon, an all-out war had erupted, and before long Kathleen couldn't feel her fingers for the cold. Happily, they dragged their sopping winter clothing back into the Gryffindor common room and hung the wet articles in front of the fire to dry. An enormous Christmas tree had already been erected, though it was only the beginning of December.

Kathleen stared at it, beaming. Christmas meant that she'd see her family soon. It had been so long, and she missed them more than anything.

Dean returned to the sofa with three glasses of butterbeer and plunked down contentedly between her and Seamus. Wordlessly, they sipped from their mugs, lazy expressions of happiness on their faces.

* * *

><p>It was an unwritten rule that they met discreetly, usually after hours. She didn't mind—it meant that they were allowed to see each other and that Draco didn't shut her out. He was still often moody, and he was always secretive about what he did during the day, but Kathleen had become used to it.<p>

Tonight, she was supposed to meet him in the Prefect's bathroom.

Once she was sure that everyone in the girls' dormitory had fallen asleep, she tiptoed out. From her extensive experience in sneaking out of bed, she'd become quite an expert in navigating the halls at night and avoiding getting caught.

She knocked on the door and it immediately creaked open. Draco was sitting at the edge of the tub—it was more of a pool, really—with his shirt open and his feet dangling into the water.

He looked up at her when she came in, but he didn't smile. When she sat down next to him, he put his arm around her, but said nothing.

She sighed inwardly. He was in a bad mood tonight, and she knew he'd never reveal why. His silence had become pervasive— sometimes the only time he spoke was after the sex to tell her that he was sorry for _being_ so quiet, and that he was happy to have her there with him. So much went on in his head, but she never got the privilege of knowing what it was.

He turned to her and began to kiss her, quickly unbuttoning her shirt. She ran her fingers through his hair, wishing that she couldn't feel guilt on his lips every time.

Someone knocked on the door.

Draco looked up in agitation, but Kathleen stood and pulled out her wand. Before she could react, a familiar voice hissed out the password and the door flung open, revealing the head of Slytherin house.

Immediately, Kathleen scrambled to hide her bra and do up her shirt, and Draco practically flew to his feet.

"Professor Snape!" He choked out in surprise.

"I thought I might find you here," he said crisply, but to her surprise, he wasn't talking to Draco.

"I can explain—" Draco started.

"I have no doubt that you've already concocted a multitude of excuses," Snape replied coolly, "however, I really don't have the time for that now, mister Malfoy."

Kathleen stared between them in confusion. "What's going—"

"If you'll kindly come with me, Miss McCormack," Snape said smoothly, looking at Draco with pure hatred.

Draco blanched instantly, and for a moment seemed dumbstruck until Kathleen obliged the Professor. Her head was buzzing with questions and confusion. Why had he called her McCormack?

What the _fuck _was going on?

"Professor, what do you need Kathleen for?" Draco asked worriedly. Kathleen followed beside Snape, a horrible feeling bubbling in her stomach.

Snape ignored Draco.

"SNAPE!" Draco bellowed desperately, running behind them. Snape turned on his heel, fury burning in his eyes when he looked at Draco.

"I warned you, Draco. I told you that there would be consequences for your actions." He turned back towards the hall. "Back to your dorm _immediately_ Mister Malfoy, or I _will _have you expelled."

Draco hesitated, looking absolutely bewildered, but relented when Kathleen kept walking. It was as if her feet were possessed—she felt lightheaded and lost, but she continued to walk.

After a few minutes of silence, Kathleen asked, "why did you call me Miss McCormack and not O'Malley?"

Snape didn't reply, though with the next few turns, she could tell that they were headed to Dumbledore's office.

"Am I being expelled?" she asked quietly.

Snape kept his eyes forward, his expression unreadable. "I'm not bringing you to the Headmaster to be penalized, Kathleen."

Somehow, that answer only made her feel more uneasy. Suddenly, she didn't want to accompany him. Why had he sought her out? Why was he looking for her?

As they stepped past the gargoyle, up the stairs and into Dumbledore's office, Kathleen felt her stomach drop. All of the heads of houses were there, looking solemn. Dumbledore sat at his desk, hands folded and with tired eyes.

"Please, Kathleen, sit," Dumbledore said gently.

She shook her head just slightly, her lips parted in confusion. "Professor, what's happening?"

McGonagall looked to Dumbledore as if for instruction, but he kept his eyes focused on Kathleen. The teachers all looked somber and uneasy.

The room seemed to stand still, and for a moment, Kathleen felt as if she could hear everything—the phoenix ruffling it's wings slightly, McGonagall clenching her fists, Snape inhaling sharply.

Yet the words sounded foreign and fuzzy when they left Dumbledore's lips.

"It grieves me to tell you, Miss McCormack, that your parents and sister have been murdered."


	14. We All Fall

**_A/N:_**

_I promise that everything will be explained with the murder of Kathleen's family in time._

_As always, I own none of Harry Potter and the wizarding world. All of that credit goes to the great J.K. Rowling._

_Oh, also, there is reference to a song in this chapter, Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral (which has a million different spellings, and mine may not be the correct one), which I also don't own. But I would suggest that you check out the song on youtube so you can understand the emotion when the song is mentioned. The version by Bing Crosby is quite nice._

_READ ON!_

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><p>Draco Malfoy was not a patient man.<p>

When he had been sitting and writhing with anxiety in the common room for over an hour. _What the hell had been so important that Snape had to seek her out in the middle of the night?_

And why was it taking so long?!

He needed to sleep, but he couldn't. His heart was racing. Had O'Malley finally been booted for her poor schoolwork?

That couldn't be it. Six years of performance that could only make a Troll proud hadn't gotten Crabbe and Goyle kicked.

Snape had called her _McCormack_. That didn't bode well. None of it did. Draco had the worst sinking feeling in his stomach. Something told him that his house of cards was about to come crashing down on him and that the wreckage would yield no survivors. He had done what his father had always warned him not to. He'd gone against his survival instinct. He'd ignored social standing.

His father was right. There was a reason that Slytherins were always the last ones left upright. Draco wished that he had acted more like one.

* * *

><p>The world was slow motion. Kathleen could feel her blood pumping painfully into her extremities; away from her brain, which felt like lead. Her lips moved without instruction.<p>

"You're wrong."

"I'm terribly sorry," Professor Dumbledore whispered. His blue eyes truly communicated despair, but Kathleen would not accept it. They had no proof.

"Your grandmother identified your parent's bodies this afternoon, Kathleen," Professor McGonagall said gently. "They were found in a cottage in Ireland. It seems that they were killed some time ago."

Her insides were stone. The world was stone. Breath was jagged—stabs of ice attacking at her throat, constricting her windpipe with the savage cold.

_Impossible._

Dumbledore sighed and looked seriously at her. "It appears that your family was attacked by Death Eaters."

She heard the words despite that she was no longer listening. Her eyes had become lost in the pale grey stone of the walls. She could hear her mother singing her an Irish lullaby, but her voice was so soft that it felt lost to her ears. She knew would never be able to fully hear the song.

Kathleen turned and walked to the stairs as if in a trance.

_Me mother sang a song to me, in tones so sweet and low…_

Professor McGonagall was fussing; Kathleen shouldn't be alone right now, not at this time of night.

_Just a simple little ditty, in her good ole Irish way._

Snape put a halting hand in front of the Gryffindor Head of House.

_And I'd give the world if she could sing that song to me today._

Kathleen reached the outside of the staircase and collapsed onto her knees, a howl of anguish escaping between her lips.

_Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, hush now, don't you cry._

She crumpled down, her face inches from the ground, her sobs strangling her. She clutched at her shoulders, hugging herself and realizing that she would never be embraced again.

Not the way she had been.

No. No, no, no, no no.

She felt a hand on her back. Kathleen didn't respond to the touch, she had become numb.

_Your body should have died with theirs, O'Malley._

O'Malley.

She even called _herself _that now.

What the _fuck _had happened to Kathleen McCormack?

She squeezed her eyes shut. She hadn't even bothered to write her parents that often.

Had they received _any _of her letters? What in the hell had actually _happened _to them?

"Kathleen," said a firm, silky voice. She didn't look up. Not for him. Professor Snape hated her very being. She wouldn't accept his lame attempt at pity. _Fuck _him! Fuck him for even speaking to her!

She shook his hand from her shoulder and stood, her face screwed up with hatred. She made to walk back to her dorm—to do what, she didn't know—but he stepped in front of her.

"I will arrange for a portkey in the morning," he said while he looked down at her, but not unkindly. "I realize that the choice is yours, but I would suggest that you return to Hogwarts as soon as you are able to."

She didn't have a voice, so it was impossible to say no. She abruptly broke their eye contact and she chose to angrily stare at his hands instead, tears fuzzing her vision. A horrible sob lodged itself in her throat, so painful that she actually clutched at her neck. Snape had already turned and had begun to walk.

Kathleen clenched her fists and ran, her throat burning and her heart bruising and bursting in her chest. She couldn't even see, but her legs had broken into a stride and she couldn't stop now that she had started. Oh _god, _they were all gone.

Where was there to go? What was there left for her to do?

She made it to the portrait before she realized that she had been holding her breath to keep from crying out.

She knew what was waiting for her behind the painting. She couldn't face it.

Kathleen staggered backward and managed to stumble back to where she'd been when Snape had ambushed her.

This time she wouldn't be interrupted.

She locked the door behind her and shrieked out a sticking charm for good measure. Then Kathleen turned the taps so that colourful and aromatic waters blasted into the oversized tub. She had no intention of having a bath. She didn't want anyone to hear the cries that were ripping out of her throat.

* * *

><p>The Great Hall had an unusual hum about it, much like the buzzing that settled in when Sirius Black escaped from Azkaban. Now that he thought about it, that same mood had been hanging around more and more often since the incident at the Ministry of Magic.<p>

Draco only noticed it because he was so fucking _on edge. _He had waited the whole night for her! What possibly could have happened that would have prevented her from even coming back to her dorm?

He felt an unnerving sensation on the back of his neck—eyes. Lots of them. He turned to see a pack of Gryffindors staring at him with feral anger. Confused, he frowned and glided towards them.

"Where is O'Malley?" he demanded.

"Funny, Malfoy," Seamus spat, his eyes ablaze.

"I don't know what kind of sense of humor you filthy Gryffindors have, but this isn't a fucking joke, Finnigan," Draco breathed, struggling to control his volume so that the teachers wouldn't overhear.

"Right," Seamus laughed bitterly, shoving a rolled up copy of _The Daily Prophet _into Draco's chest. "It's _us _who have a twisted sense of humor."

Draco rolled his eyes and unfolded the newspaper. On the bottom of the front page, an oddly familiar looking threesome stared back at him.

_DEATH EATERS MURDER AGAIN!_

_McCORMACK FAMILY FOUND SLAIN_

His blood ran cold.

"No," he murmured. "This can't be happening."

_The bodies of Margaret, Ethan and Bridget McCormack were found early yesterday morning at a Muggle holiday cottage. All three appear to have been struck with the killing curse and the bodies were burnt before being left in the cottage._

_"I could barely tell if it was my little Bridget," Rosalind Clancey, Margaret's mother, reported through tears. "I wish that it hadn't been. My girls… oh, this has to be a nightmare!"_

_Ethan and Margaret have an older daughter, Kathleen, who was not targeted in the attacks. Kathleen has not yet been reached for comment._

_At this time, it is unclear whether this was an isolated attack._

"Where is she?" Draco demanded urgently, his voice trembling.

"Fuck you," Dean replied coolly.

Stars burst into Draco's vision and he fell to the floor, reeling from the right hook that Finnigan had just laid on him. Cheap bastard took a shot at him while his back was turned!

"You should have calculated a bit better, you limey bastard!" Seamus snarled, drawing his wand. "If it was so important that you have her at your beck and call, maybe you should have stopped your family from offing hers!"

"You don't know a damn _thing _about my parents, Finnigan! They would never bother themselves with something so depraved!" he roared back.

_Lies. _They came out of him as naturally as the smooth exhale of a cigarette. _How they just tumble from your mouth, Malfoy. And O'Malley, she just ate them right up, didn't she? Existing as a liar means you have the freedom to be whoever the hell you want to be. Father Lucius would be _so _proud._

"Stop this childish behaviour at _once_!" came the clipped voice of McGonagall, who had just stridden through the entrance of the Great Hall.

Undeterred, Draco turned and looked at the head table, then sprinted away without explanation.

_Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit!_

What had he done?

Merlin, this couldn't be happening.

He held his breath when he heard the voices through Snape's office door.

"Your grandmother will be waiting for you. Do you need anything else, Kathleen?"

"No."

His heart dropped into his stomach at the sound of her voice. He had expected her to be sobbing, but it was worse. She was _hollow_. He reached for the door handle—

"_Petrificus totalus."_

Instantly, Draco felt his body stiffen uncontrollably and he fell into his attacker like a board. Whoever it was wrapped their arms around Draco's frozen torso and pulled him away from the door, behind which Draco could vaguely hear Snape's voice giving Kathleen instructions.

He was helpless to do anything but stare at the ceiling as he was dragged with some effort. He could vaguely tell that they were walking towards the Slytherin common room, but he had no clear vision of who the assailant was.

When he was being carried through the portrait hole, he caught a glimpse of a mocha-coloured and muscled arm.

_What the fuck?_

His mind was going a million miles a minute as Blaise managed to get him up to the dormitories. Once inside, he could hear Blaise locking the door.

"_Finite."_

Draco unfroze and the first things to react were his lips and his wand hand.

"What in the bloody hell—"

"Expelliarmus," Blaise said quickly. He snatched Draco's wand from the air and pocketed it.

"_What is the matter with you?!"_ Draco practically screamed. "What're you _doing_?"

"I'm saving your sorry arse," Blaise replied calmly, though his features were creased into a frown.

Draco charged towards the door, but Blaise stood in front of him.

"Move, Zabini," he whispered warningly.

"Have you gone mad?" Blaise demanded, not moving an inch. Draco shoved Blaise out of the way, but was immediately blown back into the wall by a spell. Draco struggled back up onto the bed.

"I've got the wands, smart one," Blaise reminded, mockingly waving his in the air. "I repeat, are you out of your bloody mind?"

"_Me_?!" Draco demanded.

"You're trying to go about the school spouting your sympathy for O'Malley's _blood traitor _family while simultaneously trying to please the Dark Lord by killing a blood traitor. Do you see the problem in this equation?"

"I can't just leave O'Malley out in the fucking cold!" he shouted, shoving his hands furiously through his loose platinum hair. "I just need to explain to her that me and my family had nothing to do with this and that I can make things alright."

"_But you can't make things alright!" _Blaise boomed, staring desperately at his friend. "Don't you understand? This isn't salvageable. She knows what your parents are and sooner or later, she'll know what you are. You think she's going to prance into your bed once that's happened?" Blaise ran his hands over his face in exasperation. "She's a lost cause, mate. Fucking _let it go _before you end up getting yourself killed. Her thick Gryffindor pals will get her through it. She doesn't need you. The _last _thing either of you need is gossip floating around that you're being all self-righteous and sympathetic to the enemy's cause."

"You're a prick," Draco muttered into his folded hands.

"No," Blaise replied shortly. "I'm your friend, and I'm a survivor just like you. And I'm not going to let you throw _everything _away because you've gotten weak in the dick for some half-blood!"

"Funny, you seemed to like her just fine before."

"I like her just fine now!" he snapped defensively, and then began to pace. "Kathleen's a good girl. I feel for her, you think I'm happy that she has to go through this? In another universe, you two could have your brood of beautifully pigment-deficient children and live happily ever after. What I'm saying is that _this _fucking relationship that you two have going on is nothing but a black hole. The only thing that can come of it is destroying her life and ending yours! It's not worth it. Nothing is worth that!"

"I love her," Draco replied firmly.

Blaise immediately stopped in his tracks and pointed at Draco warningly. "Shut up. Stop being a prat and making this harder than it needs to be."

"I know she feels the same way," he continued, "I need to make sure that she's alright."

"Funny, you would think that if she felt the same way, she might make an effort to see you before she left, like she did Thomas and Finnigan." Blaise paused and stared at Draco almost challengingly. "Especially considering she's not sure she'll even come back to Hogwarts."

Draco was silent for a moment, and kept opening his mouth to speak, but words didn't form. He walked towards the door and yanked on it, despite that he knew it wouldn't budge. _He could fix it, he could make it better, he just needed to see her, if he could just hold her once more…_

"Draco," Blaise called sadly from behind him, his hands shoved into his trousers. "Let it lie. You've already lost her."

He pounded on the door and cried out in frustration before sliding to the floor in a pathetic heap. Draco knew why he was a pathological liar. Fantasies of dishonesty were much less cruel than the truth.


	15. The Liar will Cry

**_A/N: _**_Hello, my wonderful readers. You guys are amazing. Thank you so much to my faithful reviewers - you all know who you are and I hope you guys realize how grateful I am that you all take the time to write me a little note, even if it's just to say 'keep going'; it's such a motivation. I know it's a lot easier to just read the story, but the reviews make such a difference to me. You are all awesome!_

_This chapter is really focused on Kathleen, but worry not, everyone's favourite character is going to be just as prominent in the rest of the story as he has been so far. I find Draco's psyche so interesting, I love writing from his POV. Him and Kathleen make a hurricane couple, I think ;)_

* * *

><p>Kathleen had always thought that if she were ever to float, it would be a magical experience. People always described it in such a happy way, like they were bouncing lightly through the air and lost in their own ecstasy. Floating was none of those things. She was doing it now, suspended in midair, not able to feel her own feet on the ground. Ever since she had been told that her family was dead, the ground had fallen out beneath her but life hadn't been kind enough to let her fall with it. So here she was, floating and left behind.<p>

The portkey had taken her straight to Nann's house, but upon seeing it, she wanted to turn and run. There would be crying, hugs, more crying, funerals, settling the estate, and then what? Moving on?

The worst of it is that her best comfort provided no comfort at all. She couldn't run to Draco. Her parents had been killed by Death Eaters. His parents _were _Death Eaters. At least, his father was. Draco was different than them, though. He _was_ different, he was! She _knew_ him, for chrissakes.

_But he isn't, is he. Stupid, naïve O'Malley, what have you gotten yourself into? _When it came down to it, Kathleen didn't know a damn thing about Draco Malfoy. He kept his secrets close to his heart—why he was always gone, why he had become a loner and recluse, why he was always looking over his shoulder and so quick to accuse anyone of treachery.

She wasn't ready for the answers that she didn't want to hear.

Reluctantly and regretfully, she trudged up to her grandmother's home.

* * *

><p>Draco was used to stares at Hogwarts, but never quite like this. Since the news broke that Kathleen's family had been murdered by Death Eaters, everyone had been looking at the Slytherins like they were barbarians—particularly him. Why was <em>he <em>always assumed to be the orchestrator of evil?

The worst bit of it was that he knew that if it had been last year, he would have been walking with a bit of a bounce in his step and he'd be glowing with pride. He wished that he was still that naïve. He knew what murder meant now, how it would perfectly cleave the soul of the attacker into destroyed halves and how it leaves everyone in its wake shattered. He was going to murder. He was going to _be _murdered. His parents… O'Malley's parents…

How excited, how _proud _he had been to be a Malfoy. Such a powerful name; the influence he'd had for his whole life made him feel like he was on one long trip of Felix felicis. Now he wished more than anything that he was unimportant, that he'd never been able to brag about his wealth and his family's flirtation with the Dark Arts. He just wanted his family and his life back.

Perhaps this was his price to pay for living so large and gleefully letting those below him be crushed beneath his feet. He was beginning to learn that his limitless pool of wealth and power was not, in fact, limitless—nor was it free.

"Draco," Daphne said in surprise when he sat at the table for dinner. "Gods, you look downright _dreadful._"

He looked at her warily. "Wouldn't you?" he countered, busying himself with the _Daily Prophet _to avoid further conversation.

He should have known better than to think that Daphne would leave well enough alone. She lowered the newspaper with her finger and peered at him over the top.

"Who knew that you actually had feelings down in that stone heart of yours?" she teased, though not entirely unkindly.

He slapped the paper down onto the table and glared at her. "Look, Greengrass, I'm aware that the _entire _school thinks I'm a heartless prick, I don't need my own house telling me." He began to stand, but she caught his arm and pulled him back down.

"Hey, hey, hey," she said quickly and calmingly, looking sincerely apologetic. "I know Kathleen is special to you. We're all hurting for her, Drake. I'm just trying to keep the mood from spiraling down to apocalyptic levels. I didn't mean anything by it."

"Not everyone is hurting for that filth," Pansy muttered, but she ensured that it was loud enough for those around her to hear. Draco was about to lunge when Daphne calmly hit Pansy with a silencing charm and acted as if Pansy had never existed. Still seething but slightly amused, Draco sat back as Pansy huffed and pouted noiselessly.

"Have you talked to her since she left?" Daphne asked after draining her goblet of pumpkin juice.

He looked sheepishly down at his plate and felt his cheeks burn—a rare sensation, one that was usually reserved for being one-upped by Granger. "I haven't talked to her since… No, I haven't."

"_You haven't spoken to her since it happened_?" she practically choked. "Merlin, Malfoy, you're going to owl her, aren't you?"

Blaise was staring at him harshly, clearly communicating with his eyes that _no, he sure as hell wasn't going to owl her, _yet Draco was grateful that Blaise obviously hadn't spilled his secrets to Daphne.

"Of course I am," he mumbled, which only added to his guilt. What _was _he going to do? O'Malley was in fucking _Ireland _and this was his opportunity to drop her, but even Blaise had to admit that he couldn't just abandon her now. For Merlin's sake, he didn't even know if she had anywhere to stay!

Blaise's eyes ignited dangerously, but Draco just snarled right back. Friend or not, he couldn't tell him what to do. He _was _a Malfoy after all, and besides, he would be doing the decent thing by contacting O'Malley. It couldn't possibly make things any worse than they were already, anyhow.

"Good," Daphne retorted, her voice tinged with disgust. "_Men!_ Don't you think she'd need some support right now, idiot?"

"Women have never been my strong point," he lied, excusing himself from the table. Daphne couldn't understand why Draco hadn't talked to O'Malley, nor could she comprehend why Blaise's mood had suddenly soured so drastically.

"Men," she repeated again under her breath before drowning her sorrows in Christmas custard.

* * *

><p>Nann was busying herself in the kitchen when Kathleen entered the home, dried tear tracks on her cheeks. When she realized Kathleen was there, she immediately dropped what she was doing and ran to her granddaughter.<p>

"I'm so glad you're home," she sighed in relief. "Oh, child, I'm so sorry. So very sorry."

She had never acknowledged how rigid Nann's embraces were. Her grandmother was a tight woman—strict. It even penetrated her hugs. Now that she thought about it, she had rarely been hugged by Nann; it simply didn't suit her. But despite the rigidity, Kathleen could feel anguish leaking from every pore of Nann's skin. She had never seen her grandmother like this—always a pillar of strength, Nann had never wavered in Kathleen's presence. Unfortunately, the death of a daughter seemed to introduce a lot of unwanted firsts. She stroked Kathleen's hair now, trying to comfort her, and the gesture only highlighted oddness that she was showing affection.

It was strange; she was so much unlike her daughter—Kathleen's mother—who was warm and affectionate, clamoring for touch whenever her children would allow it.

Kathleen nodded numbly into Nann's chest, her brain devoid of thought. Wordlessly, she picked up her bag and dragged it into her room, sat on the bed, and stared at the floor. She could feel the pictures of her mum, dad and Bridget staring at her with still smiles, but she could not smile back, she could not look. She stayed there for hours before her grandmother finally came in.

"Kathleen, you need to have some lunch," she said softly, but her tone was commanding.

"Not hungry," was her reply.

"You're going to eat."

It wasn't a request. Kathleen met her grandmother's eyes, a familiar defiance burning in them. Kathleen, however, was too beaten down for the stubbornness that the Clancey's were so famous for. She got up wordlessly, trudged like a zombie into the kitchen and stuffed a sandwich into her mouth, barely tasting before swallowing.

She turned and faced the woman who seemed to have aged ten years since she'd seen her last. No streaks of red remained in her metallic locks and her frown lines seemed more pronounced than ever.

"What happened to them?" Kathleen asked quietly.

Nann averted her gaze and stared at the dish that she was washing intensely. "The aurors tell me that the Death Eaters were likely trying to make a statement."

"What kind of statement?" she demanded, her voice laced with hurt irritation.

Nann frowned, still refusing to look at her granddaughter. "It's complicated, Kathleen."

"And what am I, simple?" she snapped, watching Nann with unforgiving eyes. The anger was starting to pour out of her uncontrollably—under normal circumstances she would know not to dump it on her grandmother, but Kathleen had lost all power over her emotions.

"I said nothing of the sort," Nann replied tiredly. "I don't want to overwhelm you."

"I need to know!" Kathleen pleaded, tears breaking onto her face. "My _entire _world has died, Nann, I want to know why!"

Nann fussed with her bun, contemplating the request. "I know we've never talked about this, Kathleen, but I'm sure you heard things when you were at Hogwarts. When your mother chose to marry your father and forfeit her wand… well, it left an impression."

"There are a lot of witches who marry muggles," Kathleen said defensively.

"I'm aware of that," Nann continued calmly, though her face was creased into a frown. "There aren't very many witches who abandon their magic. That hasn't happened since we were persecuted during the witch trials. It made your mother fairly infamous in the wizarding community."

"So what? The Death Eaters wanted to punish her for choosing to live a different life?"

Nann sighed. "I told you that it's complicated. I imagine that the Dark Lord and his followers saw the action as spitting in the face of magic. Perhaps they thought they were upholding the sanctity of magic by doing what they did. I don't _know, _Kathleen."

Kathleen regarded the exhaustion in her grandmother's voice and suddenly felt guilty. She nodded and wrapped her arms around herself. "I'm sorry, Nann. I didn't mean to get angry with you. I'm just… God, I can't believe it."

Nann reached out and squeezed Kathleen's hand, tears fresh in her eyes. For the first time, she felt compassion in her touch. "I know, Kathleen. Neither can I. But we're all that either of us has now, and we mustn't turn on each other."

* * *

><p>The preparations for the funeral were excruciating. Nann wanted the ceremony to be private, with only the bare minimum amount of guests attending. She didn't want to return to Kathleen's home town for the funeral—the place they had lived for their entire existence as a family. Finally, when Kathleen roared at Nann that she'd be arranging a proper ceremony with or without her grandmother's permission, she relented.<p>

Kathleen posted an obituary for her father, mother, and little Bridget in the local paper. It was almost easier to write her parents obituaries—she could fill the space with their accomplishments, their passions, and their wonderful characteristics. Bridget was too young to have died. There was nothing to write yet—Bridget hadn't gone to school yet, she hadn't played any sports, no one would ever know who Bridget would have been when she grew up. Was she going to be sentimental, like her mother, or feisty but loving, like her father? Would she have excelled in football like Kathleen had, or would she have been stronger in academics? What would she have loved? Who would she love?

Sobs wrenching in her throat, Kathleen shakily typed out a simple but eloquent piece for her younger sister. She lamented that beauty would never be enough to describe a girl whose smile lit up a room, whose laughter was so genuine that it hurt, and whose potential would be so tragically unmet.

Despite the squabbles about the funeral, her grandmother was being kinder than Kathleen could ever remember. She was absolutely adamant that Kathleen not isolate herself and that they stick together and draw on one another for strength. Though her grandmother was not warm, one thing she surely had was strength. She held Kathleen up, even when she begged to fall.

It wasn't until the phone call that pieces of the puzzle started edging towards one another.

"Hello?"

"Kathleen," a breathless voice on the other line said, "I just saw the obituaries."

It was Casey, one of her friends from her home town. In the time that she had been homeschooled by Nann she had drifted apart slowly but surely from her friends, but she was overwhelmingly grateful to hear Casey's voice.

Immediately, Kathleen broke down and began sobbing.

"I'm so sorry, Kathleen," Casey choked, also overcome with emotion. "I just can't believe it. Christ, I don't know what to say. When are you coming home?"

"As soon as I can," Kathleen sniffed, though she realized with devastation that she had no 'home' to return to. "Hopefully before the funeral."

As if sensing her thoughts, Casey said, "look, I know we lost contact when you moved, but if you need somewhere to stay, my house is always open to you. I still love you with all my heart."

"I can't tell you what that means to me," Kathleen whispered, unashamed of her over sentimentality and emotion. It seemed urgent now to express herself—one never knew how much time you had left to do it.

Silence.

After a few moments, Casey said, "I saw the report about the bodies found in that cottage near Crosshaven. It didn't even _occur _to me that it might be them."

"Near _Crosshaven_?"

Suddenly, Kathleen stopped crying and she froze. This wasn't the first time she heard this information, but it was the first time she had actually acknowledged it. When McGonagall had told her they were found in Ireland, she was too in shock to process the information.

"Yeah," she replied. "I guess you didn't read the newspapers."

No. Her and her grandmother had decided that it would be too painful to read the reports…

"Casey, I have to go. Thanks for calling. I'll be in touch soon," Kathleen said, using all her might to keep her tone even.

"Take care of yourself, Kath," Casey instructed, still sniffing away tears.

Kathleen put the phone back on the receiver and immediately began rifling through her papers to find the phone number of the company her father had worked for in the United States. After frantic searching, she finally found the piece of paper with the all-important letterhead. She dialed the number, her heart pounding urgently.

"Hello, this is Richard," said a deep voice from the other line.

"Richard Black?" Kathleen questioned, struggling to keep her voice from trembling.

"Speaking," he said, his voice thick with an American accent. "What can I do for you?"

"My name is Kathleen. My father was working for your company," Kathleen explained quickly. "I need to know when he left. His name was Ethan McCormack."

There was a silence on the other end of the line, punctuated only by the tapping of Richard's pen on his desk. "I'm sorry, miss, I don't remember an Ethan—sorry, did you say his name _was_?"

"He passed away," Kathleen replied dismissively, but her heart was sinking into her stomach. "Please, do you have anything on file about him? He was coming from Ireland for a temporary position, it would have been a little over a year ago."

Kathleen could practically hear his Eureka moment.

"Yes, of course! He came highly recommended," he said with sudden understanding, though Kathleen could hear that he was troubled by what she had told him. "Well I'm very to hear that he passed on, darling, but he never even showed up to work here. We were all very confused—he didn't even bother calling to let us know. We thought it was strange, but you have to understand that sort of thing happens all the time when you're hiring strangers."

"Right," Kathleen said, feeling faint. "Thank you for speaking with me."

"If you don't mind me asking, Kathleen, what happened to your father?"

"He was murdered," Kathleen replied, and she was unable to keep the raw bitterness from her voice. "I'm trying to figure out what happened."

The man sighed heavily. "That's just tragic, Kathleen. I wish I could be of more help. Please give me a call if I can do anything else."

"You've helped plenty," Kathleen said unsteadily, "thank you."

She replaced the receiver and slumped down the wall, absolutely shaking with terror and emotion. A naked vulnerability overcame her and she realized desperately that she needed Draco. Despite their complicated mess of a relationship, he was the only one who would make her feel protected. He was her last source of love, no matter how much they both tried to deny that fact.

Yes, the metaphorical portrait was still fuzzy, and the edges weren't quite filled in. But Kathleen could recognize the face in the portrait as easily as if they were standing directly in front of her.

With a sudden sense of urgency and duty, Kathleen began working to fill in the blanks of her family's death.


	16. Ashes

**_Advisory: Long, dense and brutal chapter ahead. I think it's worth the read._**

* * *

><p>The air grew tense in the Slytherin common room. Once word had finally spread about who Kathleen's parents really were, the house seemed divided on whether house solidarity or blood supremacy took precedence. Those most closely connected to the Death Eaters—Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle—didn't hesitate in publicly denouncing Kathleen despite her membership in their house. Others, like Daphne and a number of the fifth-year Slytherin girls, thought that her mother's treachery was of less importance; every family had an outlier, whether it was Andromeda Tonks or Sirus Black, it seemed inevitable. Another sizable portion including Theodore Nott and Blaise (on the surface, at least) didn't appear to give two shits about the whole affair.<p>

As Blaise had so aptly pointed out, Draco had been put into an uncomfortable position. Being who he was, he was expected by other Voldemort-friendly Slytherins to be disgusted by O'Malley's parentage. He would have to pretend that he had no knowledge of who she really was and that she had pulled one over on him. It was worse than even Blaise had forewarned—he would not only have to cut himself off from O'Malley, he was expected to be actively spreading hatred towards her. At least he had been smart enough to hide the depth of their relationship from everyone—though some could tell that they fancied one another, only Blaise and Daphne had any grasp of how tangled together they had become.

Sitting on his bed, Draco prayed to a higher power that he didn't remotely believe in that he could undo what had been done. For now, he was dependent on his ability to disappear into the woodwork without a trace. The problems would arise when he couldn't hide any longer.

* * *

><p>The house was quiet and Nann moved about like a ghost. As the hours ticked by, her grandmother seemed to deteriorate further and further. Nann was ageing years with each day that passed by. She had no knowledge of the phone call that Kathleen had just made.<p>

Kathleen locked herself in her room, keeping her wand close. She didn't want to use it unless it was absolutely necessary—she knew that she could have it snapped in half as punishment—but it brought her some comfort.

She pulled out her trunk from under her bed and began poring through the letters from her parents, trying to glean any scrap of information, any small detail that would enlighten her. She was absentmindedly biting down on her lip so hard that it was beginning to swell.

"_There are a lot of rumours flying around, and while he is not someone to be trifled with, don't worry about your safety, sweetie. Hogwarts is safe, and Nann would never let you be in danger, no matter what."_

Lie.

Kathleen sighed in frustration, already discouraged. She couldn't be sure that her parents had written _any _of the letters, how was she supposed to gain anything from them? She looked through each one carefully, scrutinizing for any sign of her real parents. When she came to the second last letter that she had received, she stopped, read, reread, reread again.

The letter had been delivered by a different owl with no envelope.

Kathleen felt a slap of guilt and agony. It seemed so obvious now—they had managed to get the letter out as some sort of message to her, and she completely missed the boat.

But _what _message?

She quickly concluded it had to be in the poem. Her parents would _never _write poetry, that had to be it. She scanned over it again:

_Unusual, only you encourage value:_

_only love endures without 'nevers;'_

_never alone… never together,_

_surely, understanding regardless._

_Taboo, that noxious option,_

_do embrace viciously_

_ideals lost along bloodlines_

Understanding regardless… Ideals lost along bloodlines… What the hell were they trying to say?

She stared at the poem for what felt like hours with no progress, yet the urgency of the situation wouldn't allow her heart to stop exploding in her chest. All she could get from it was that her parents wanted her to be a blood supremacist, and she was positive that wasn't the real message. At the bottom, they had said that to figure out the 'artistic meaning' of the poem, she had to remember that her parents were backwards. She already _knew _that. Her mother was as backwards as it got for a witch.

She paused and contemplated. Backwards… literally backwards?

First, she read the words from the last to the first, but it made even less sense that way. She tried reading every letter backwards and only came out with gibberish. She rearranged words, read each line individually backwards, none of it produced anything remotely coherent.

_Damn it!_

She tried taking the last letter of each word and spelling something out of it backwards, but no luck. Finally, she took the first letter of each word and examined it.

She dropped the page.

Hands trembling, Kathleen grabbed her quill from her trunk and underlined the first letter of each word. She then wrote out the sequence:

UOYEVOLEWNNANTSURTTNODEVILAB

Backwards:

B ALIVE

DONT TRUST NANN

WE LOVE YOU

B. alive.

_Bridget._

Rage blinded Kathleen and thoughts evacuated her mind. Without thinking, without warning, she snatched both the note and her wand and stormed into the kitchen, where her grandmother was enjoying a cup of tea.

"Where is she?!" Kathleen screamed, pointing her wand at Nann, anger poisoning her blood and fury radiating through her skin.

"Kathleen, what is the matter with you?" her grandmother asked curtly, putting down her teacup rather forcefully.

Kathleen slapped the letter onto the table, pointing to the sequence she had written at the bottom.

"B. alive!" She shrieked. "_Bridget_, you witch, what have you done with my sister?!"

"You are speaking nonsense, child," Nann, said dismissively, but she stealthily slid her hand down to her apron—

"_Oblivi-_"

"_Expelliarmus!" _Kathleen cried before snatching her grandmother's wand out of the air. She threateningly aimed her wand at Nann's face.

"You were lucky just then," Nann whispered, her tone suddenly cold and her eyes dead. "It won't happen again, Kathleen."

Without thinking or even saying a spell, Kathleen slashed her wand through the air and her grandmother's hair fell from its ever present tight bun. Nann regarded the threat.

"Turns out you may have some magical talent," she said softly, a slight smirk creeping onto her lips. "You just need some motivation."

"_What the hell have you done?_" Kathleen yelled, tears streaming down her face openly.

Nann sat down rather calmly and picked up her teacup again. "I did what was necessary, Kathleen."

Kathleen stared at her grandmother, seeing her honestly for the first time. Kathleen forced her voice to be quieter. She needed answers and Nann held all of them.

"I was hoping that I would have more time," Nann muttered to herself, and to Kathleen's surprise, she could see tears forming in her grandmother's eyes. "It will be so hard for you to understand just yet."

"What are you _talking _about?" Kathleen sobbed. "What did you do to my family?"

"I _am _your family," Nann quipped sharply, suddenly glaring at her granddaughter. "One day you will realize, Kathleen, that I value family above everything."

"You killed them," Kathleen whispered, biting down hard on her lip to keep from screaming after she said the words.

"It was not my explicit intention," she replied quietly, and Kathleen could see true exhaustion in her eyes, a cracked sort of pain that she could not quite grasp, the pain that only a person who has lived too long and seen too much can feel. "I didn't expect your mother to react the way that she did."

"What happened?" Kathleen demanded again through clenched teeth, her eyes burning with hatred.

"Did your mother ever talk to you about your grandfather?" Nann asked, her voice suddenly high and far away. There was no focus in her eyes.

Kathleen didn't give a flying _fuck _about him right now, but she had to play along, she had to keep Nann talking. "She told me that she never knew him and that he died in a duel a long time ago."

Nann smiled bitterly. "Yes, that's true." She paused and closed her eyes. "It was a noble house that I came from, Kathleen. We were respected. Feared."

"Pure-blooded," Kathleen answered, taking the hint quite quickly.

"Pure-blooded," she whispered. "When my mother passed away, rumours surfaced about her life. Gossip, nothing more. But one of the rumours was particularly damaging—a reporter from the _Daily Prophet _claimed that my mother had a longstanding affair with a muggle boy. Said she'd had a baby with him."

Kathleen couldn't quite understand where this was going. Because magic was a taboo subject in her mother's home, she didn't know much about Nann's history or family. Her grandmother seemed to sense her confusion.

"I was an only child," she explained darkly, her voice low and clipped.

"And were the rumours true?"

"Am I a half-blood? No, Kathleen, I am not," Nann replied, a satisfied expression flickering through her eyes. "Unfortunately, the rumours about the affair were very much true and there was plenty of evidence to back the claim. By the time I had confirmed that my father wasn't some useless muggle, it was too late."

Kathleen bristled at the ignorant jab at her own father, a 'useless muggle' who had been anything but useless, but she allowed her grandmother to continue.

"Your grandfather was terribly concerned with bloodlines. He was humiliated and disgusted by the prospect that he had married a half-blood. Your grandfather left us, Kathleen, a disgraced witch with her three-year old daughter to fend for both of them in an incredibly unforgiving time. He disowned Margaret and annulled the marriage as soon as he could bribe the ministry to push his paperwork through."

"I don't understand," Kathleen replied, absolutely killing herself to keep the frustration from sounding in her voice.

"Come now, child," Nann chided, "haven't you ever wondered why your mother was so determined to keep you from magic?"

Because magic had ruined her life.

"Your mother has always been stubborn, like myself," she continued without missing a beat. "I raised my daughter properly. I taught her magic, I sent her to Hogwarts, I instilled in her the importance of her heritage, but she separated from me with each day. She cursed her pure blood and cursed me for trying to praise the very thing that had ripped our family apart. I tried to tell her that it was the fact that dirty muggles had almost snuck into our bloodline, but she would have none of it. She said it was your grandfather's fault for being so cruel and caring so deeply about something which we had no control over."

_Sounds familiar, _Kathleen thought bitterly.

"The harder I pushed, the more delusional she became. All I wanted was for her to marry a nice wizarding boy. With her temper, I might have even settled for a half-blood. The fact that I expected it enraged her. Eventually, she became so furious at me for—what did she say? '_Clinging to a pathetic attempt at prestige,' _I think—that she decided to forfeit magic completely. She said that the superiority that most wizards felt, pureblood or not, disgusted her and she'd have no part of it. Soon after, she met your father. Before I knew what was happening, I got wind that your mother was engaged." Nann looked at Kathleen now, her red lips tight in a frown. "I hadn't spoken to my only family member in over two years. I had to compromise. I had to give into her."

"Meaning what?" Kathleen asked suspiciously, now unable to keep the edge from her voice.

"I knew that I would lose your mother forever if I didn't give up on the pureblood rouse. It wasn't ideal that she was muddying our bloodline, but she was the only child that I had. If she refused to marry a pureblood, I had to salvage what I could," Nann explained bitterly, and though it was twisted and it wasn't right, Kathleen could feel that her grandmother had truly agonized over the ordeal. It wasn't a childish tantrum or some snobbish indignity; Nann, for whatever perverted reason, was truly broken over her daughter's decisions.

"The problem was that I expected that she would hold her wand again if I accepted your father," Nann replied quietly, her eyes distant again. "She didn't."

"So what?" Kathleen barked through her gritted teeth, her heart exploding with furious pain, "you killed her off? She's your _daughter_!"

"Neither of you understood," Nann hissed. "Magic isn't just a tradition! It's not some _culture_ that you can choose to take a vacation from. We _are _magic. It wasn't that your mother disrespected me, Kathleen, it was that she insulted and sullied our entire family, our _race_!"

"Was it really worth killing my parents?" Kathleen cried as she squeezed her eyes to rid them of the tears that were blurring her vision.

"I already told you," Nann said tightly, "I never meant for them to die."

Kathleen could not speak without screaming, so she chose to kick a chair over while her wand involuntarily shot off red sparks.

"Kathleen," Nann said desperately, "surely you can see the state that the wizarding world is in. Once the whispers of the Dark Lord's return started, I knew that I had to take action."

She then paused and took in a shaky breath.

"I needed to convince your mother that she had to take up her wand again," she explained. "The scandal that your mother brought—our family would never stand a chance. I knew that we wouldn't survive the first wave of killings. He would target the traitors first to make a statement."

"We?" Kathleen questioned, taken aback. "What the hell would they want with you?"

Nann looked away. "Your grandfather and I were pillars in the purity movement at the beginning. After my mother's indiscretions were exposed, people started becoming suspicious. When your mother married a muggle, I had lost all credibility. I needed to prove that our family was behind the Dark Lord's cause. I tried first to get your mother to reconsider, I tried reasoning with her, nothing would sway her," she whispered, then she suddenly clutched at her heart. "I was so sure that if I showed her what was at stake, she would come back to me."

"You sold her out," Kathleen murmured, in shock. "You gave them to the Death Eaters."

"_She wasn't supposed to resist!" _Nann spat. "I offered her and your father a way out! I gave them a choice, Kathleen, and _they_ chose death. _Not _me!"

"You were asking them to join a group of genocidal sadists!" Kathleen cried. "How can you possibly call that a _choice_?"

"We all would have been guaranteed safety," Nann said firmly, but angry tears were spilling from her eyes. "All Margaret needed to do was give the Dark Lord her allegiance."

"And what about my father?" Kathleen demanded.

"Power belongs where power lies," her grandmother replied bitterly. "There was nothing to be done for a muggle."

"So he just doesn't count then?!" She screamed. "I thought you said that you cared about family above all else!"

"Your father was a kind man," Nann replied cruelly, "but a mere man nonetheless. He was never a part of my family."

"ENOUGH!" Kathleen screeched hysterically. "_WHERE IS BRIDGET_?"

"I am protecting her," Nann replied firmly, staring defiantly into Kathleen's eyes. "Just as I am protecting you. I will not lose another member of the Clancey family."

"If you think that I'm going to follow along and support the death of innocent people—" Kathleen stopped, her blood on fire and her stare dangerous enough to kill. "Tell me where Bridget is _right now."_

"Or what?" Nann questioned, actually laughing bitterly at the veiled threat. "You have no way of finding her without me, Kathleen. Try as I might, I can't force you onto the correct path. But I will be _damned _if you're going to take Bridget along with you. You have a choice, just as your mother did. You can choose to survive, to see your sister again and to have a good life when the Dark Lord reigns. Or you can choose death. It may not be right now, Kathleen, but it will come and it will come soon. You'll be alone, defeated and degraded. And you will _never_ see your sister again."

"You disgust me," Kathleen whispered, feeling defeat creep upon her. "You can't possibly think that all there is to life is self-preservation."

"Interesting thought," Nann replied distantly, putting her hand into her apron. "I think that, when faced with life or death, you'll learn that there is _only _survival, whether that be of your body or of your blood—it's the only thing that matters."

She shook her head. "You're wrong."

Nann sighed and looked longingly at her granddaughter. "I was hoping that it wouldn't come to this, child. If you come out of this, you might rethink your position and realize how much you truly value your survival. If you don't…" She sighed again. "I'm very sorry that you've chosen foolish whims of equality over your only family."

Before Kathleen could reply, she watched in utter shock as her grandmother took a _second _wand from her apron and pointed it at her. Both her grandmother's first wand and Kathleen's own wand flew into the back room from her hand.

"You have so much potential," Nann said, sending shockwaves through Kathleen's spine. "If only you didn't cloud it with your emotions and a silly obsession with mercy."

With that, flames shot from the wand and caught immediately onto Kathleen's surroundings. Kathleen watched in horror as her grandmother stood, watching her.

"I will always forgive, Kathleen," she said over the loud crack of fire, "if you ever realize what it is you have _actually _chosen, I will be there and we'll be a family once more."

There was a loud _snap _and her grandmother disapparated. Trying not to panic, Kathleen clambered back to grab her wand from the floor. How had it engulfed so much so _quickly_? The fire was everywhere, twisting into animalistic shapes and climbing surfaces at a terrifying speed.

"_Augamenti!" _Kathleen cried. Water shot from her wand, but had almost no effect on the flames. They were engulfing her, she could feel pieces of burnt wood crumbling around her, she could feel her skin boiling.

"_Reducto!"_ she screamed, pointing to the wall. A hole blasted through it, but it was too small to fit through. She couldn't breathe. She felt the leg of her pants catch with flame—

"_Reducto!" _she repeated, and she yelled the spell again and again until she could climb through the wall. She fell to the snow outside with a horrible jolt of cold against her skin. Kathleen quickly realized that her skin was actually burning. She tried dousing the flames with the _augamenti _charm as she crawled away from the house frantically. Her lungs burned unlike anything she had ever felt—Kathleen wasn't sure she had put out the fire on her leg—she couldn't breathe, couldn't breathe, _couldn't breathe—_

* * *

><p>Draco had almost finished packing his suitcase when he heard someone rapping on his door.<p>

"What?" he demanded testily. He had things to do—nick some polyjuice potion from Snape, find an inconspicuous way to get to Ireland, not to mention sort out the _goddamn crisis that was his life._

"Need you in the common room," came the voice of Theodore. "That Gryffindor Finnigan is having a bleeding stroke outside."

Draco rolled his eyes and stalked over, slamming the door shut behind him. "What does he want?"

"Hell if I know," Theodore said indifferently, "I'm just tired of him banging on the bloody portrait asking for you."

"Fine," Draco hissed, racing down the stairs and through the dark common room. He pushed the portrait open violently and came through, seeing an anxious-looking Finnigan in the corridor.

"What do _you _want?" Draco sneered.

"I didn't have to come here," Seamus replied defensively. "I'm trying to do you a favour."

He was about to snap right back, but he quickly realized what that had to mean: Kathleen.

"What is it?" he asked, attempting to sound even, but it came out a bit more high-pitched than his voice usually was.

"I'm leaving to go see Kathleen," Seamus explained, chewing on his thumb nail furiously. What he was saying was obviously causing him great discomfort. "If you can get ready right now I can take you with me. The ministry came out because she had used magic outside of school while being underage."

Draco frowned. "Why the hell was she using magic?"

"Are you coming or not?" Seamus asked impatiently.

Draco nodded, confused. "Yes, fine, I just don't understand why you're asking me," he snapped. "You know my father doesn't have any power at the ministry now. I can't get her excused."

Now it was Seamus' turn to look confused. Draco stared at him and paused for a moment before asking: "where is Kathleen, Finnigan?"

Seamus looked away and blew out air harshly. "She's at St. Mungo's."

* * *

><p>AN: _Though it's far from perfect, I poured all of my effort into this chapter. It's been building up from the very beginning_ _of the story. _Please _let me know what you thought. There's still a few things left to explain-the second wand that Nann has, what actually happened to Bridget-but those details will come later. I promise that there will be Kathleen x Draco next chapter-hopefully you can see why I couldn't have any in this one. Thanks for reading!_


	17. All we Are

Burning chest, burning skin, burning eyes, burning, burning. Kathleen rolled onto her back, her body in absolute agony from the sudden coldness of the snow. Her eyes had become so irritated from the smoke that she couldn't force herself to open them without being blinded by stinging tears. She could feel the warmth of the fire from the house, but she had crawled far enough away that the flames weren't threatening to engulf her again… for now, at least.

She heard two loud _cracks, _not those of flame consuming wood, but of someone apparating. She could hear a pair of voices, one low and one tenor and fast-paced.

"Hello?" the higher voice called out.

"Help," Kathleen croaked, but it barely came out as a squeak. Her throat felt as if acid had been poured down it. She tried again and no sound came at all. Desperately, she rolled over again and ignored the pain as much as she could, and she managed a sort of crouched-hobble towards the direction she had heard the voices. She wiped furiously at her eyes, forcing herself to see despite the agony that it was causing. A large, blurred figure came into her vision and raced towards her, grabbing her by the arm.

"Davis!" the man cried, holding Kathleen up. "Are you Kathleen?"

She nodded before bursting into a fit of coughs. She suddenly began to feel incredibly cold and she just wanted to be taken away.

"Alright, just hang tight, lass," he encouraged, "we're from the Ministry. You're alright now."

Kathleen could see the other man approach, a squat man to whom the baritone voice belonged.

"Whoever it was conjured friendfyre," Davis reported gruffly, his voice laced with irritation. "Damn near impossible to put out."

Only then did Kathleen realize with considerable relief that they had managed to extinguish the fire.

"My grandmother," she said with as much force as she could, which amounted to a pitiful, barely audible whisper.

"You can explain everything once we've gotten to St. Mungo's, Kathleen."

* * *

><p>"You know that you can't tell a <em>soul <em>that I've come with you," Draco warned as he sat down next to Seamus on the train. Neither of them knew anything more than that Kathleen was in St. Mungo's, and Seamus' mother was trying to get the mess sorted out.

"Why should I need to? People will see for themselves," Seamus replied shortly, looking out the window angrily. Though he had made the gesture to bring Draco along, he wasn't going to go so far as to pretend he was enjoying the Slytherin's company.

"Not so," Draco replied slyly, brandishing a vial of polyjuice potion. "For all intents and purposes, I'm just a random bloke who happens to know Kathleen."

Seamus scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Is image _really _so important to you, Malfoy? Why even bother coming?"

"My actions are well-intentioned," he replied dismissively. "I don't care whether or not you believe that."

"For the record," Seamus said in a low voice, "I don't."

Then he turned so that his back was almost completely facing Draco.

It was going to be a long ride.

* * *

><p>"I just need to open your eyes as much as you can," the healer instructed gently. Kathleen did as she was told and felt drops fall onto her burning corneas. Immediately, the stinging went away and she could see.<p>

"Thank you," Kathleen said quietly, sitting back into her bed. It was a relief to have her full sight back, but she just wanted to sleep—possibly wake up with this all being a nightmare.

"Very polite, this one," the older woman replied with a sly smile. "Feeling better?"

Kathleen nodded, but glanced down at her leg that had been consumed in friendfyre. The pain had lessened, but her flesh still felt torn. They had bandaged her leg, so she couldn't see what state it was in. She had a hunch from the lingering physical torment and her body's hesitancy to move that she hadn't been fully healed yet.

The healer regarded Kathleen's concerned expression and touched her hand. "Your leg will recover," she reassured in a frank tone, "but we won't be able to do much more about the scarring."

Kathleen frowned and lifted the bandage, revealing thin, tree-like and plasticky scars that crept up and around her limb. She bit her lip hard to stop her tears before sitting back again, nodding silently.

"Dearie," she tutted, "don't you worry about that. It would have been much worse had we not gotten you to St. Mungo's—magic has come a long way in healing burns."

Somehow, that didn't bring her any comfort as she stared at her scarred leg.

Kathleen smiled politely and nodded again, electing to say as few words as possible. The people that she wanted to talk to were standing outside her room—Davis and his tall partner from the Ministry.

As if on cue, they stepped into the cramped space. The healer stood up indignantly.

"I hardly think so, Shepperd!" she protested to the tallest of the pair. "Give the child some time to rest."

"No," Kathleen piped up. "Please, I'd like to speak with them now."

The healer looked back and rocked on her heels for a moment, frowning in contemplation. "Five minutes."

"I appreciate it," Shepperd replied, moving quickly to the chair adjacent to Kathleen's bed. He stared at her, his eyes stopping on her bandage, but he made no comment. "That certainly wasn't the situation we were expecting when we were informed of under aged magic."

"I didn't start the fire," Kathleen started vehemently.

"We know," Davis interrupted. "You conjured a disarming spell, a water charm, and a destructive spell. No friendfyre."

Kathleen breathed a sigh of relief. "Am I going to be expelled?"

"That depends on what happened at your grandmother's home," Davis said seriously. "Hogwarts does not expel students with extreme circumstances calling for the use of magic."

Kathleen hastily explained the events leading up to the fire, ignoring the searing pain in her leg. She detailed the phone call with her father's employer, the message in the letter, her grandmother's explanation, and most importantly, the fact that Bridget was still alive. The pair of ministry workers listened intently, solemn expressions on their faces.

"Do you still have the letter?" Davis asked. Kathleen's heart sank.

"No," she admitted quietly, "it was destroyed in the fire."

"Miss McCormack, you need to understand that these are very serious accusations that you're making against your grandmother," he cautioned, "she would be put into Azkaban for the rest of her life if what you're saying is true."

"It is true!" Kathleen shouted.

"No one's saying you're lying," Davis interjected firmly, "but the state of the wizarding world is already fragile at best, and the ministry is tapped for resources."

Kathleen eyed the heavy-set man suspiciously. "What are you saying?"

"What he's saying," Shepperd said gently, "is that we'll deal with the situation as best we can once we've got reason to believe what you've told us—" he sensed her bristling at this statement—"and we _do _have reason, Kathleen, we just need to send Aurors to the site to confirm the details of your story. However, as you may well know, there are many fugitives on the run at the moment, most of them Death Eaters. The fact is that Bridget is likely located wherever the Death Eaters are congregating, and we haven't been able to find them for months."

Kathleen stared at him, speechless for a moment. "Wha—so you're just going to give her up as a lost cause? She's _three years old_, for Christ's sake!"

"We're not leaving Bridget behind!" Davis barked defensively. "We are simply being _honest _with you, Miss McCormack. Nearly all of our Aurors are actively pursuing the Death Eaters as we speak. We are doing as much as we can. We're just asking for you to be patient and realistic."

"In the mean time," Shepperd cut in nervously, trying to diffuse the tension in the room, "we'll keep you informed of any progress while you're at Hogwarts. Any news on Bridget or the Death Eaters, you'll receive word."

"I'm not going back to Hogwarts when my sister is missing and being raised by a pack of murderers!" Kathleen practically screamed.

"On the contrary," Davis said gravely, "if your grandmother is confirmed to be on the run, you will be declared ward of the state, Kathleen. The ministry has final say on where you'll be living, and rest assured, that will be Hogwarts."

"You can't _force _me to do anything," Kathleen hissed venomously.

"Miss McCormack, if you aren't on the train back to Hogwarts after Christmas holidays, you'll have a nice seat warmed up for you at the Delinquent Centre for Witches and Wizards, is that clear?"

It was like a slap in the face. She was trapped. Worse than that, she was helpless to change it. She stared back at Davis' defiant expression, unable to reply.

"We understand that you've been through a great deal of turmoil in the past few weeks," Shepperd said hastily, obviously trying to compensate for his partner's harshness. "But it is the ministry's job to ensure your well-being, and the best way to do that will be to have you return to Hogwarts."

Kathleen said nothing, so eventually Davis sighed and stood. "We're very sorry for the loss of your parents. We wish you the best in the future. Take care, Miss McCormack."

"Kiss my ass," she retorted, none too quietly.

Davis frowned but said nothing before disapparating with his partner.

* * *

><p>Draco had waited outside of the room, not eavesdropping just like Finnigan had asked him to.<p>

It wasn't his fault if he and his mother were as loud as banshees. How could he possibly not overhear? Besides, he could only hear the shrill tones of Finnigan's mother, he could barely tell what she was saying.

He admired his hands as he waited. He'd done a good job in disguising himself—he'd picked a tall, golden-skinned and black-haired muggle to infuse his polyjuice with. The man had been almost his size exactly, so he could slip comfortably into a sharp suit and retain his usual air of wealth as he walked confidently through the streets of London. He enjoyed being someone else; for a moment, he could pretend that he was a seemly aristocrat with not a care in the world.

Just like the old days.

Draco frowned, realizing that Kathleen's voice was not among those speaking. He curiously leaned into the door with his ear pressed against it, hoping to catch the conversation inside.

No sooner had he begun eavesdropping than Finnigan burst out of the room, causing him to stumble down and awkwardly have to dust himself off and pretend he hadn't been trying to listen in on the conversation.

"That's some nerve you have, Malfoy," Finnigan snapped, observing the transformed Draco in disgust. The polyjuice had done nothing to lessen Seamus' contempt for his Slytherin schoolmate. "I knew I shouldn't have told you anything. This is what you get for trying to do something nice for scum like you."

With considerable difficulty, Draco ignored the jab and replied with as close to an admission of guilt as he could muster. God _damn _Finnigan, the bastard held all of the cards and Draco had to play to him.

"I didn't hear Kathleen's voice," he said innocently, "I wanted to know what's going on."

"You didn't hear her voice because she bloody checked herself out and didn't tell anyone where she was going," Seamus growled in agitation. "_Stupid _girl."

Suddenly, Draco became aware of his heartbeat. It was quicker than it should have been. "She _left_?"

Seamus glared daggers at Draco. "Yes, she left. The healer won't even tell us what happened to her 'cause we're not her family. All she could say was that she was well enough to leave."

Draco rolled his eyes and clenched his fists. "So she's just gone, then."

"Apparently she said she'd show up at my place eventually," Seamus breathed furiously. "Once she's 'had some time to think.' She can't possibly be that stupid to think that we wouldn't be worried sick about her."

Draco blew out air.

Seamus stared at Draco, sizing him up. "Look, if you find her, will you tell her to get her ass home?"

"Who says I'm going to look for her?" Draco scoffed. "Not my problem if she's going to run off like some bint."

"Right," Seamus said skeptically and without a hint of friendliness. "Just remember that I've done you a favour."

Draco winced involuntarily. He purposely avoided favours; he hated them. Nothing was worse than being in debt to someone you loathed.

* * *

><p>He walked hurriedly down Diagon Alley. He was shooting in the dark, but where else did she have to go in London? He scoured the shops but found nothing.<p>

_Bloody girl! _He was wasting his entire day chasing her around. If this is what a real relationship entailed, he decidedly confirmed that he wanted absolutely nothing to do with one. If he even had inkling as to why she had been put in St. Mungo's, he'd know where to start. He hated being in the dark, he hated being confused. Kathleen-fucking-O'Malley was turning his life into more of a nightmare than it already was, and yet he couldn't stop. He couldn't abandon and go back to Hogwarts. He had to see her. He had to see her _now._

The polyjuice would be running out soon.

He came to a downtrodden tavern and felt a mixture of relief and unease when he peered through the window.

Perched on a barstool, there she was, perfect and beautiful and sad. Wilted. She was dressed in a pair of baggy sweatpants and a hoodie—an outfit of someone who doesn't give a shit. Her usually bouncy hair was limp and subdued, hanging down in loose, unkempt curls.

He stepped inside cautiously and sat down by her, leaving one seat vacant between them. Almost immediately, he was hit with an overwhelming slap of firewhiskey—not from behind the counter, but emanating from Kathleen. She held her glass with both of her hands, sipping from it carefully. She dug a couple of sickles from her pocket and was about to put it onto the counter for another, but he couldn't help himself.

He grabbed her wrist and she swung back to look at him, surprised.

"I'm sure your money can be better spent elsewhere," he said smoothly, though he forgot to disguise his voice. He was unable to keep himself from staring hard at her large green eyes, which she now narrowed.

She jerked her hand away and continued to glare suspiciously at the polyjuiced Draco. "You…" she breathed.

"I'm not sure we've met," he said pleasantly.

"Do you think that you're going to fool me?" she demanded, staring into his eyes, fully aware of who she was speaking to.

Despite himself, Draco fully grinned. "Sorry, love," he whispered. "But you were the only one I _wasn't _interested in fooling."

"Problem here?" asked the barkeeper, peering over at Draco.

"Yes, there is," Draco announced rather loudly. "Who in their right mind allows a fifteen year old girl to get drunk all alone?"

The man shrugged, obviously unperturbed. "She looks like she's of age."

"Right," Draco said contemptuously. He turned to Kathleen. "We're getting out of here."

"You can't tell me what to do," Kathleen snapped, though her eyes were heavy with sadness and her tone had none of its usual fierceness behind it. She stood to walk away from Draco, but stumbled and fell like the pathetic drunken teenager she was.

Draco seized her wrist in agitation and swung her body unceremoniously over his shoulder. "Always the hard way with you," he muttered angrily as he stalked out of the pub. Kathleen hammered on his back with her fists.

Almost mechanically, Draco walked to an adjacent hostel and slapped a few galleons on the counter before snatching a key to one of the rooms. He carried Kathleen, who had now mostly quieted, until he reached the room. He dropped her rather roughly onto the bed and came within centimetres of her face.

"Don't you ever do that to me again," he warned. "No one had any idea where you were or what the hell happened."

"I have a right to my own privacy," she retorted.

"Not like that you don't," he replied firmly. He stared at Kathleen - so tired, so broken, so defeated. He felt his anger deflate slightly and he touched her hand. "Are you alright?"

Kathleen laughed darkly. "Are you actually asking me that question?"

Draco closed his eyes, counted to ten. She was agitated and drunk, and she'd been through a lot. _Don't yell at her_.

"What happened, O'Malley?"

"My grandmother," she said drunkenly, tears suddenly springing to her eyes. "My grandmother killed them."

Alarmed, Draco stared at her incredulously and asked her to clarify. Surely, she was just being dramatic.

Kathleen then detailed to him how her grandmother was a Death Eater, how she had left her parents to the mercy of his people, and how her little sister was alive somewhere. As he listened, his heart sank further and further toward his stomach.

_Death Eaters. _His kind.

"I have to find her," Kathleen slurred through tears.

"And you thought a bar would be the appropriate place to start?" he demanded harshly.

"_I don't know what to do_!" she cried. "Bridget is out there and I can't follow her. My parents are dead. My grandmother is responsible. So _fucking sue me _if I wanted to forget for a moment!"

Draco eyed her, sizing her up. Even broken, she was the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen. He cupped her chin between his thumb and forefinger and looked directly into her eyes.

"Bridget will be found," he said seriously.

Kathleen stood, steadying herself with the wall. She had stopped crying and was suddenly very serious. "Draco, I have to leave."

He ran his fingers through his hair, which he was surprised to find had transformed back to the straight, platinum locks that he was used to.

"You're not going anywhere like this, O'Malley. Not tonight."

"_Stop telling me what to do!_" she screamed, but she immediately stumbled over afterward, falling ungracefully to her knees. Draco observed her for a moment, almost cruelly, absorbing the pathetic state that she was in. He sighed and hoisted her back up to the bed. She was sobbing, hugging herself tightly.

Draco stood and walked briskly to the bathroom, where he filled a tall glass with tap water. He came back to Kathleen and put the cup into her hand.

"Drink," he instructed.

Kathleen did nothing, seemingly being defiant for the mere reason that she could.

"So help me God, O'Malley, I will force your mouth open," Draco growled. "_Drink it_. You won't be so sick that way."

Kathleen glared daggers at him, but slowly drank the water. She placed the glass onto the bed side table and crawled up to the head of the bed, away from him. She hugged her knees to herself tightly and stared out into nothing. Eventually, she crawled under the covers. Draco sat himself in a chair next to the bed, waiting for her to succumb to sleep. He watched her silently; he could tell she wouldn't sleep.

Removing his shirt and his shoes, Draco slipped into the bed beside her and wrapped his arms around her small frame.

Immediately, she turned into him and buried her face in his chest. She wept openly, her broken sobs tearing at him, making him feel pain that he didn't know he could feel. He held her tightly, stroking her hair and kissing her forehead.

"I'm sorry for running," Kathleen whispered. "I'm glad that you found me."

Draco held the girl to him. _His _Kathleen. No one could take her away from him. Not right now.

"Nothing's going to happen to you or Bridget," he whispered. "That is a promise."


	18. Flicker and flash

**_A/N: Sexual content in this chapter._**

* * *

><p>Draco didn't know how long he laid there, waiting for Kathleen's breathing to finally slow and deepen. He couldn't be sure if she had fallen asleep or succumbed to the alcohol, but she was safe in bed and that was enough for him. Unfortunately, he had a nagging favour to return.<p>

He slipped out of bed silently and moved toward the small hearth in the room. Begrudgingly, he scooped a handful of floo powder from a pot on the mantel and cast it in quickly.

"Finnigan Residence, Ireland," he said clearly before sticking his face into the fire. Rather than feeling the burn of flames, the green embers felt quite cool against his skin. Instantly, he could see into what had to be Finnigan's living room. It was comfortably furnished with a plush sofa and some armchairs, though Draco had to sneer at his family's lack of refinement. It almost felt like a hunter's home.

"Finnigan," he said loudly, not seeing Seamus anywhere. Someone in his mid-forties peered around the corner before clutching his heart and crying out.

"SEAMUS!" the man screamed. "HOW MANY TIMES HAVE I TOLD YOU – "

"Sir, I just need to speak to your s—" Draco began, startled by the outburst.

"FACES IN MY BLOODY FIREPLACE!" the man yelled. "NEED I REMIND YOU THAT NOT EVERYONE IN THIS HOUSE IS USED TO THIS SORT OF—"

Draco never thought he would be relieved at the sight of Seamus. He ran into the room and put his hand on his father's shoulders.

"What are you on about?" he demanded, but then looked in the direction of the fire and his expression changed to one of confusion. "Oh—er, sorry, Dad, I didn't know anyone'd be calling. He's not actually on fire. It's the closest thing they've got to a telephone, see."

"These magic folk," his father murmured wearily, shuffling out of the living room. "Telephone seems much simpler than floating heads of fire."

With that, Seamus walked up toward the fireplace, his hands shoved into his pockets. "Sorry," he mumbled, not quite embarrassed, but still so his father couldn't hear. "He's a muggle, some things still catch him by surprise."

"Apparently," Draco replied, frowning towards the spot Seamus' father had been.

"Well, I wasn't exactly expecting to hear from you," Seamus said defensively. "What do you want?"

Draco tried to hide the discomfort from his face, not taking into account that Seamus was only seeing him as a Malfoy-shaped pile of embers. "I, uh, just wanted to let you know that I found Kathleen."

Relief passed over Seamus' face before it darkened. "Why are _you _telling me this? Where is she?"

"Indisposed," Draco answered shortly. "She'll floo over in the morning."

"Malfoy, I swear to Merlin, if you're up to somethi—"

"She's piss drunk," Draco snapped. "She passed out. I figured it probably wouldn't be the best way for her to start off her stay."

Seamus sighed heavily, frustrated, and nodded. "Alright. Did she tell you anything?"

"Unfortunately," Draco said uncomfortably, feeling odd actually speaking somewhat civilly to a Gryffindor. "It's complicated, I'll let her explain it when she gets to you. All you really need to know tonight is that she might need a place to stay over the summer holidays."

Silence—only breathing filled the awkward pause. Seamus was biting the inside of his cheek, contemplating, but choosing not to share his thoughts with Draco.

"Right, well, good night to you," Draco said, attempting courteousness, though his voice was audibly tight.

"Right," Seamus said awkwardly, frowning. "Look—I appreciate you doing this, Malfoy. You, uh… It was a decent thing to do."

"This was just squaring off a debt," he said quickly, less confidently than he would have liked, "We're even now."

With that, he pulled out of the fire and was back in the hostel. He tossed a log into the hearth, allowing it to burn into a real fire and provide a bit of warmth in the cold room.

He crawled back into bed, trying not to wake Kathleen, but he couldn't resist putting his arm over her and pulling her close to him. She smelled like cinnamon and vanilla, just like usual, but it was faint and titrated with the scent of liquor. The scent was like a shot of heroin, something he had missed so much and felt incomplete without, but something he would regret indulging in once it was gone.

She stirred and opened her eyes slightly before bolting upright in bed, flattening herself against the wall and crying out with her eyes as wide as saucers. Quickly afterwards, she seemed to gain awareness of where she was and she slunk sheepishly back down the wall, pulling the quilt up to her cheeks.

"Care to explain that?" Draco questioned, cocking an eyebrow at her.

"No," Kathleen snapped from under the blanket. Her eyes were transfixed on the fireplace. "Could you put that out, please?" she asked quietly.

"The fire?" he demanded, agitated. "It's freezing in here, O'Malley. These walls are like parchment and it's snowing outside."

"It's plenty warm in here," she protested, and there was real panic in her voice. "_Please_, just put it out."

"Will you just go back to sleep?" Draco grumbled, turning away from her in agitation. He'd forgotten what a bloody nuisance the girl could be. Was it so much to ask for some peace and quiet after spending _entire_ the day on a wild goose chase for her?

Kathleen didn't reply but quickly got out of bed and swiftly padded toward the bathroom, her gait slightly off-balance.

"What are you doing?" he groaned, sitting up in bed. When she returned with a bucket in hand, he was about to cry out a protest when he noticed something.

"For Christ's—are you _limping_?"

Kathleen ignored him as she doused the fire. Without a word, she crawled back onto the bed and buried herself in the blankets, resolutely turning her back to him.

"O'Malley," he hissed. When she continued to ignore him, he grabbed her shoulder her and turned her roughly so that she was facing him. His eyes were still adjusting to the darkness, but he could see that her eyebrows were tightly creased.

"I don't want to discuss it," she snapped. Suddenly, Draco realized that he had gotten lost in her story about her grandmother's involvement in her parents murder. He'd forgotten to ask why she had wound up in hospital.

He stared at her, his lips sewn into a tight line. He pulled her into his chest and said nothing. He didn't know what else to do. He couldn't very well force her to speak, and he knew well enough that some wounds just cut too deeply. "Goodnight, Kathleen," he murmured, feeling oddly jarred and uncomfortable.

They lay there silently for an eternity, both totally aware that sleep would come for neither. Kathleen's emotional rawness was bringing up feelings that Draco preferred to suppress—feelings of brokenness, of betrayal, and most of all, of helplessness.

"She burned the house," Kathleen muttered finally, but her voice was strong. "She burned everything."

Draco said nothing, only pulled Kathleen to him and held her too tightly for someone that he was going to have to let go of eventually. "She's a filthy hag. She just wanted to do away with any evidence of that."

"No," Kathleen whispered. "She wanted me to join her."

Pain exploded in Draco's stomach as thoughts ran rampantly through his mind, out of his control and without warning. _It wasn't his fault. Her parents were already dead. She had nothing to lose. Not everyone had the fucking option to say no! He didn't have a choice. He didn't _want _to be a Death Eater! He hadn't asked for any of it to happen. Did she think he really wanted any of this?_

He squeezed his eyes shut, knowing that she wasn't really attacking him, she wasn't trying to hurt him. And the reason why was because he was a fucking pathological liar. She was in his arms and confessing to him, but if she knew the truth, she'd be slitting his throat without a trace of remorse.

* * *

><p>Again they lay in silence, and Kathleen wondered what was going on in his head. The jaded Draco Malfoy, mystery to all.<p>

"I'm ending this tonight, O'Malley," Draco whispered, brushing a strand of her hair away from her face.

"I know that," Kathleen murmured bitterly, "I didn't think you'd taken polyjuice just to see what you looked like as an Italian."

"People are going to start noticing you if we're together," he replied, and she swore that she could almost hear a trace of pain in his voice, but it faded as quickly as it had began in his tone. "I'm not going to put you in their direct firing range. We have to pretend like this never happened until this mess gets sorted."

He didn't need to explain who 'they' were.

"No," she said firmly. "You can't just pretend this never happened. You need to _hate _me, to ridicule me, and it needs to be public."

He did a double take, staring in disgust. "What's the matter with you?"

"Draco," Kathleen replied seriously, "we can keep pretending like your father didn't go to Azkaban for serving You-Know-Who or we can face the fact that you're risking the lives of you _and _your family by acting anything but ruthless towards me."

"You are bloody _mad_—"

"Listen to me," she pleaded. "I've lost my parents. Please, Malfoy. You think they're going to take kindly to rumours about you shagging a filthy half-blood?"

"Stop it," he said, gripping her more tightly. His voice was much quieter than she had expected.

"I love you, Draco," Kathleen said without meaning to. She felt his entire body tense against hers—the words had slipped out unintentionally, but there was no going back. She might as well move forward. "I won't let you ruin everything for someone like me."

"_Don't_," Draco whispered darkly, dangerously even, holding her chin and looking at her with unnerving intensity. "You have no idea what you're doing, O'Malley."

"Don't be thick," Kathleen whispered, tears springing to her eyes despite her stubbornness to repress them. "You know just as well as I do that you don't have any choice if you want to keep attention away from your family. I'm nothing to you. Nothing but poison."

"Always slow on the uptake," he hissed, suddenly straddling her and moving his face within an inch of hers. "You are _everything _to me, O'Malley."

He took her mouth with his possessively, grabbing the back of her neck and pulling her into him. Immediately, Kathleen felt her thoughts slip away and the urgency of her world numbed into the wonderful touch of his skin, his musky scent, the hunger in his kiss.

"Draco…" she whispered, but it wasn't out of pleasure, it was out of warning.

"For god's sake, I am begging you, _please _shut up, just this once," he pleaded, attacking her neck with his mouth. Kathleen moaned involuntarily and writhed underneath him, reveling in his affection. "Let me have my one fucking night of just _having _you."

Draco was right. The wolves would be there waiting in the morning. For this one night, she would be able to forget that her parents were dead, her sister missing, and her grandmother on the loose. She had a single night to treasure the sliver of love she had left in her life—why waste what little time she had?

Kathleen closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around his neck desperately, meeting his lips and feeling all of her hurt and suffering and letting it bleed into the kiss. This time it was Draco who moaned, a sort of broken sound of exasperation and relief at her finally letting go. Suddenly, the world was a blur of senses saturated with lust and sadness. There was the feeling of limbs twisting with one another and his rough hands claiming her flesh, the smell of musk and sweat combed through the air as they tangled together, the faint taste of salt and liquor on their tongues and skin as they tasted each other's bodies, and not a shred of coherency or sense permeated their worlds as Kathleen lost herself in their tortured symphony.

Draco pulling at her waistband drew her harshly back into reality. She put her hand up to stop him, not wanting to show him the scars that were record of her failing to defend herself against her grandmother. He stared at her for a moment before holding her hand in his and sliding down the fabric slowly. He didn't break eye contact as her sweat pants caught slightly over the patches of bandages over the worst of her burns, and only once they were shed to the floor did he look at her leg. He traced his fingers lightly over the thin paths of scar tissue, but his hands didn't stop there. One continued up her chest, over her neck and into her hair, pulling her lips to his.

The other fumbled with the fly of his own trousers, patiently seeking the contact of her skin against his. Soon there was no barrier between them and Kathleen couldn't help but stare into his eyes as he gently parted her legs with a push of his hand. His forehead was against hers, eye to eye with Kathleen as he struggled to push into her. Involuntarily, he let out a hiss of pleasure and scrunched his eyes close.

Kathleen hadn't been able to acclimatize to his size, but the tightness and slight burn only made her feel closer to him. He thrust into her sharply, causing her to cry out and dig her nails into his back. He exhaled loudly and stopped for a moment, as if any movement at all would send him over the edge.

He then moved more slowly, allowing her to match his strokes. Neither of them could contain their internal heat for much longer. Soon, their bodies were rolling in jagged tandem and they slid from the low bed onto the hard wooden floor. When he snapped his hips into hers, he filled her so completely and with such pressure that Kathleen was thrown to the brink of orgasm.

He felt her tighten around him and he moved urgently, burying his hands in her curls and possessing her mouth before exploding. They shuddered together, panting heavily in the aftermath. She was too exhausted to move back up into the bed, and as if he could read her thoughts, Draco pulled the quilt down onto the floor and spread it over them before grabbing a pillow and tucking it beneath their heads. They laid in perfect silence, almost ready for sleep, but Kathleen had one more thing to say.

"I didn't mean to say that before," Kathleen whispered. "It just sort of slipped out."

"You shouldn't have said it," Draco murmured back without opening his eyes. His expression was exhausted, but serene.

"I meant it, why shouldn't I have?" she replied fiercely, and then she paused. "You don't feel the same."

Again, Draco didn't open his eyes. "No, Kathleen," he whispered softly, grabbing her hand and stroking her fingers. "I'll always love you."

She circled her arms around his neck and knew that nothing more needed to be said. He kissed her forehead and sleep came quickly on the hostel floor.

* * *

><p><em>Merlin<em>, his back hurt.

Draco opened his eyes groggily and took a moment to remember why he had slept on the floor of a shitty hostel.

Kathleen was gone.

He sat up quickly and called out her name, but he could smell traces of floo powder and he knew that she had probably left long before he had woken up. He swore and stood, mussing his hair and pulling on his trousers. There was a scrap of parchment on the side table that he snatched up to read.

_There's nothing good in a goodbye, so I didn't want one._

_Thank you for everything._

_O'Malley_

Despite himself, Draco smirked and nodded before guilt almost brought him to his knees.

_Kathleen O'Malley is _thanking _you. _She was willing to humiliate herself to protect him and his family and all the while he had the Dark Mark etched into his skin—the group that had almost single-handedly torn her life apart. She didn't know. She didn't know that he had lied, that it had always been a lie. And she wouldn't know now, not until everyone knew, not before it was too late. It already was too late. If he had been less of a coward, he might have been able to tell her. Not all of it—not about Dumbledore—but maybe how he had been forced into membership.

But he was a coward. He worried for his own reputation, for his own safety, for whether or not he'd be able to get her to spread her legs for him once he'd admitted his past.

If you'd asked anyone who Draco hated most in the world, they would invariably tell you "Harry Potter." But it wasn't true. Draco had always hated someone much more fiercely than _the boy who lived_. This was a hatred that was so familiar that it was comfortable to him; it was the only security blanket he was ever allowed to keep.

The person that he hated most would always be Draco Malfoy.

* * *

><p>"Kathleen," Seamus said in surprise, fiercely hugging his friend as she emerged from his fireplace. She returned the embrace. Kathleen's exhaustion had taken over and she was glad to be with familiar people that wouldn't bring her any more pain—so much so that she was immediately overwhelmed and the crying began as soon as she saw Seamus.<p>

"It's alright now," Seamus whispered, "it's alright now."

She sobbed and sobbed into his sweater, not explaining a word of what had happened but feeling that he somehow knew just by looking at her. Soon, Seamus' mother and father had come around the corner, and after a moment of watching, they too wrapped their arms around the two teenagers.

Finally, they broke and Kathleen dried her tears, feeling so much lighter than she had. Seamus' mother picked up a haphazardly wrapped package from under the Christmas tree.

"I know it's early," she admitted, "but I figured that one present couldn't hurt, and we all need a bit of Christmas cheer."

Kathleen smiled and shrugged, tearing open the paper and revealing a tin that was filled with cookies and tarts. She gratefully thanked the Finnigan's and hugged Seamus' mother.

"Reggie made the date squares," she whispered into Kathleen's ear and motioning to her husband with a tilt of her head. "I wouldn't advise tucking into them unless you're fond of the taste of tarmac."


	19. Want

The time for daydreaming had ceased. The world was falling upon him like a great storm and he needed to prepare before he was crushed by the elements. No more toying around. He invisibly extended his bookbag and filled it with the essentials and books containing magical secrets of the darkest kind. The pages of those books were haunting him, and in each illustration, he saw Dumbledore's face staring back at him, pleading for him to stop.

They had taken over his home. His life had been fully consumed by Voldemort's decay. The Death Eaters disrespected the beauty of the manor, made a mockery of his family's dwelling; he could feel their filth all around him. That bit was bearable. What he couldn't stand was the Dark Lord. His very presence seemed to suck his childhood away from him, infecting his security by taking his occupancy in Draco's home.

On Christmas Eve, he took his mother with him to a rented flat in London and vowed to himself that each and every one of them would pay for defiling his home.

He tried to ensure his mother's safety by giving her one of a pair of mirrors—she could see him in hers and he could see her in his. He wasn't sure what he would be able to do if she actually needed his help, but the thought that she could always reach him gave him some peace.

Lastly, he prepared his gift for O'Malley. He had been at a loss on how to give her something helpful, considering what the state of the wizarding world would be in a few months and that they likely wouldn't be in contact by that time. It had to be something that she wouldn't throw away, that she would still use even if she hated him. The idea came to him suddenly, and despite himself, he felt a self-satisfied smirk work its way onto his lips. There were few things that Kathleen was crazy about, and luckily, it could prove useful for her survival.

* * *

><p>Even before it was over, Kathleen would remember very little about her stay at the Finnigans' over the holidays during that December. Her time there was a blur of her parents' funerals, visiting with friends who now felt like they were from a different lifetime, meeting with various members of the law, and a sense of numbness, of going through the motions without really being alive.<p>

To her surprise, the Finnigans had given her a great deal of comfort despite the chaos. Kathleen had not intended to stay there longer than a couple of days; she just wanted to go back to Hogwarts where she could be alone and begin thinking about how she was going to find Bridget. She didn't want to mourn anymore, she didn't want to feel the hurt and she certainly didn't want to come to terms with her parents' death. Mr. and Mrs. Finnigan seemed to know better. They insisted that she stay, and it turned out to be her saving grace. Having a normal, loving environment to come home to that was filled with people who wouldn't invade her privacy but also wouldn't allow her to slip into isolation was exactly what she needed.

Her parents' funeral had gone smoothly—as much as a funeral could, Kathleen supposed. Hundreds of people showed up to pay their respects, including all of her friends from muggle school and even a few faces from Hogwarts: Seamus' family of course, Dean, and a number of Professors who had come not only for Kathleen's mother but for Kathleen herself—most oddly, Professor Snape. Kathleen said nothing to her defense against the dark arts teacher, but she caught him looking at her, and she acknowledged him with a polite nod. He frowned at her and nodded back, as if some unspoken words had passed between them. If there had been, Kathleen definitely missed the message.

Kathleen stared at the ground as images of her family were projected to the crowd, pictures of her smiling mother and father shoving wedding cake into each others' faces, photographs of Bridget just after being born, their vacation to New Zealand when Kathleen was six years old…

Palpable tension hung in the air when images with Bridget or Nann appeared on the screen—everyone knew by now in some capacity that Bridget may not be dead, but in both the muggle and the wizarding world, an abducted child held little promise of return. Nann's face was in every newspaper, muggle or _The Daily Prophet_, accused of murdering Kathleen's parents and abducting Bridget. It was an unspoken tragedy and Kathleen did nothing to rectify that. She was not going to include Bridget in the funeral because she _was_ _not _dead, but she also wasn't going to talk about it because some things were just too hard.

Heartbreak cracked through her chest that day, not only because she had lost her parents, but because she had lost herself too and there was no one to find her. She was faced with her greatest trial and the worst part was that her parents weren't there to get her through it. They had always been there up until Nann had gotten them sent away. Kathleen's first rejection from a boy, the loss of an important footie game, the death of her paternal grandparents—her family had always been there to lean on. They were gone now, and the silence it left in her life was deafening… maybe it was something she had attempted to fill with the presence of Draco Malfoy.

Glumly, she noted the absence of Draco's face in the crowd.

* * *

><p>Kathleen noted with mixed emotions that people's generosity was hyperbolized by tragedy. When she awoke on Christmas morning to Seamus' excited beckoning, there were more presents under the tree than she had ever seen in her life. Over half of them were addressed to her. More surprisingly, Dean and his mother had risen early to make the drive over without telling Kathleen beforehand.<p>

"You didn't have to do this," she said to Dean as she hugged him fiercely. "Thank you."

"Cocky, this one," Dean said to Seamus, pointing to Kathleen as she embraced him, "she thinks I came to see her when your mum's holiday cooking is being served."

"Oh, stop," Mrs. Finnigan gushed, pink warmth creeping onto her cheeks. Kathleen was grateful for Dean's teasing and sarcasm—it was a welcome act of normalcy, something her life had been seriously lacking since she had left Hogwarts.

They spent the next half an hour taking turns ripping open gifts. Kathleen had bought a bunch of paraphernalia of Ireland's quidditch team for Seamus including gloves, a hat, and scarf; she had decided on a new, Gryffindor emblazoned cloak for Dean's, since his old one was getting to be so short that it was comical. She received new dragonhide Quidditch gloves from Seamus and numerous hair-taming potions from Dean.

"My hair is _not _that bad!" Kathleen protested when she took out the final potion, _Tixley's Potion for Tumultuous Tresses. _The bottle had a before and after picture, the after picture being a sleek-haired, pretty witch, and the before picture a not-so-flattering shot of someone dressed up as Medusa.

"I'd just like to be able to see beyond your head when we're on the pitch," Dean replied happily, folding his new cloak in his lap with a satisfied grin.

Kathleen then opened an unmarked gift, obviously a book by the shape and weight, and frowned. The book was called _Top Jinxes, Curses and Countercurses: The Adventurer's Guide to Defence against the Dark Arts. _She opened the cover and her frown deepened.

"Who in the hell bought you a textbook for Christmas?" Seamus demanded, stealing a look over Kathleen's shoulder before bursting into laughter.

In inky black was written: _Miss McCormack, it is my hope that you will find this book both useful and instructive. It complements your current course material and should lessen your struggles in my class._

_Professor S. Snape_

"Blimey, you're so bad that he actually _pities _you!" Seamus choked, howling with laughter. "Snape sent her a bloody remedial book!"

"Shut up," Kathleen said tersely, slapping the book closed. '_Odd' _was the only word that came to Kathleen's mind and the only thing that came to her when she contemplated the gift and gift-giver further. With an uneasy stomach, she slid the book over to her obnoxious pile of gifts, ignoring the snickering of Seamus and Dean.

* * *

><p>After all of the festivities had wound down, Kathleen retreated into the guest bedroom for a quick nap. The horde of food she'd just consumed had made her sleepy and she needed a break from Seamus and Dean's bickering over quidditch and whose fault it was that Dean's relationship with Ginny had signed off with miserable failure. When she closed the door behind her, she noticed a long, oddly shaped gift left on her bed. She tore off the wrapping and quickly realized that she had received a brand new broomstick—she didn't recognize the brand, but she could tell from the wood and the finish that it was top-of-the-line. Wrapped around the top of the handle was a piece of parchment marked with handwriting that she recognized, but wasn't sure she would see again.<p>

_'The fastest galleons can buy… Naturally._

_Now you've no excuse to fall behind._

_DM'_

Kathleen smiled crookedly and ran her finger over the smooth, dark handle. She had done just fine on her standard-Slytherin-issue Nimbus 2001, _thank you very much_. But she grinned as she held it—this broom was _hers_, not one that she had to leave in the equipment room once quidditch practice had ended. She could fly about when she felt like it, she could use it for whatever she wanted.

_'To fall behind'…_

_Or whatever you _need. With a feeling of uneasiness, she recognized the underlying message in Draco's note—she might need the broom to run from something. Some_one._

_What a fatalistic boy he is. It's _Christmas,_ chrissakes, _Kathleen thought angrily, suddenly feeling exhausted again. She placed the broomstick beside the bed and crawled under the covers, falling asleep without a thought, only the trace of a memory of blonde hair and musk.

* * *

><p>Christmas is the highlight of any spoiled child's year. A showering of gifts and affection, incredible food, time off from school with everything taken care of from the cleaning to the entertainment—what more could you ask for?<p>

Draco Malfoy sat hunched on the edge of an unfamiliar bed, his elbows propped on his knees and his chin resting on his knuckles. Christmas was another day. It was another 'x' on the calendar counting down the days until someone's life would end—his or Dumbledore's. His pile of packages sat beside his bed, unopened. If he had the energy or motivation, he might have burned them.

He didn't, though.

"Draco," his mother called through the door. "It's time to come out."

Her voice was elegant and controlled as always. Negating the outburst at his last visit home, you would never know that Narcissa Malfoy was undergoing any hardship. Her wardrobe was impeccable, her makeup flawless, and there was never a hair out of place. In like fashion, Draco was greeted with an exaggerated spread of food, perfectly prepared and pleasantly arranged across the moderately long dining table that the large flat held. His mother was holding her head high, exposing her graceful neck and her nose sloping towards the sky in dignified defiance of their circumstances.

They ate in silence. Neither of them spoke much any longer. Narcissa had always striven to be positive for her son, but short of becoming delusional, there weren't many positive dinner table topics to choose from.

Draco smushed his Christmas cake around the bowl, not bothering to take a bite. He had half-heartedly chewed on a bit of turkey, but that was the extent of the effort he was able to give.

"Something wrong with the food, Draco?"

"No, mum," he replied quietly, seething.

"Eat, love," she pressed, missing the irony of her own untouched food beneath her. "You need your strength."

"_Will you stop it?_" Draco snapped suddenly. "If you don't stop acting like everything is absolutely bloody terrific I'm going to string myself up from these rafters and—"

_"Draco_!" she warned sharply, and he immediately regretted opening his mouth. His mother's eyes were crystalline and dangerous. "I _never _want to hear you speaking that way again, do you understand?"

"I'm sorry, mother," he mumbled like a chastised child, sliding back into his chair, defeated. "It won't happen again."

"Bellatrix believes that your father will be free soon," she said conversationally, again ignoring any sign of disruption or strain.

"Bellatrix also believes that a half-blood with no face is worth wasting away in Azkaban for," Draco sneered before he could stop himself.

"What has gotten into you?" Narcissa demanded sharply. "If the Dark Lord were ever to hear you say such a thing—"

"He'd kill me?" Draco spat ruthlessly, raising his arms in the air challengingly. "Sorry to be the one to tell you this, mum, _BUT HE'S ALREADY GOING TO_!"

His words rang in the expansive room and his mother stared at him with wide eyes, dumbfounded. Suddenly his chest hurt and his brain swam with guilt as he could see his mother's resolve crumbling.

"Mum, please," he begged, rushing to her side and embracing her. "I didn't mean it. I'm sorry. It'll be—it'll be alright. Please, don't be upset."

His mother let out a noise somewhere between a sigh and a scoff. "What would you have me do?" she whispered. "If you won't let me try to protect you, I have nothing, Draco. I don't know if your father will ever come home, and even if he does…" She grabbed at her throat absently, temporarily lost in her anguished thoughts. "We cannot break now. We cannot show weakness."

There was a loud _bang _that caused Draco to jump, but Narcissa barely blinked. She didn't turn in the direction of the sound, but Draco didn't miss the slight twitch of her mouth—her natural reaction to frown not quite suppressed.

"What are you two doing holed up here?" Bellatrix asked loudly. Draco clenched his fists and felt his jaw set.

"It's rude to apparate into people's homes without invitation," Draco said tightly.

Bellatrix pouted and swayed towards her nephew. "Now, now, Draco, your home is back at the manor, with your people. Not here. Don't you feel honoured to have the Dark Lord in your house?"

"I'm not in the mood," Draco snapped, feeling his temper rise.

"Not in the mood?" she demanded shrilly, obviously confused by Draco's prickly demeanour. "What's gotten into you, Draco? You have been given the opportunity of a _lifetime_—"

"_Enough_!" Narcissa announced, standing. Immediately, both of them silenced, chastised by her commanding presence. "We will join you at the manor in an hour or so. Draco, I will _not _tolerate you disrespecting your aunt like this. Bellatrix, you are always welcome in my home, but in the future it would be more polite to give me some warning so I can prepare."

Bellatrix stared with her psychotic eyes at her sister, her expression unreadable, and nodded only once before disapparating.

Draco stalked back into 'his' room and slammed the door, forgetting to cast a silencing charm before he screamed out in blind anger.

* * *

><p>Within moments of stepping into the Slytherin common room, Kathleen was bombarded by her housemates. Crabbe, ever suave, was particularly blunt.<p>

"I hope for your sake that blood treachery isn't inherited down," he said loudly across the room, not bothering to rise from his armchair.

"First of all, that doesn't make a word of sense," Kathleen replied, her mouth moving without her brain's permission. "Considering both my grandparents are blood supremacists and they so happened to give birth to my '_traitorous' _mother, but no matter, not much of a surprise coming from you."

Crabbe's face wrinkled in confusion and she carried on blindly, the rage of her parents' murder fuelling her apparent death wish.

"Sorry, allow me to simplify it for you, _Vincent_. No, I did not _inherit _my mother's beliefs about blood and muggles."

Crabbe's puzzlement visibly deepened and Kathleen suddenly noticed Draco looking at her with a startled and—she was both shocked and troubled by this—_hopeful_ expression. She cleared her throat, having lost some of her momentum upon seeing his face, but she continued.

"I came by her beliefs through striving to be a decent human being and having some _bloody _common sense!"

And with that, she had sealed her coffin to her housemates. She thought Crabbe might charge at her—she was a bit frightened, his head was actually quite large and could do considerable damage at high speeds—and the rest chose expressions of disdain, a scandalized 'hmph!', or to ignore her completely. All except Draco—his stare was so hard, so unnerving, that Kathleen felt herself reddening under his gaze, and for some reason, she suddenly wanted to blurt out an apology for what she'd just said though she meant every word of it.

With the exception of Daphne, the Slytherins had turned on her, but she didn't care. A good chunk of them openly mocked her for her refusal to apologize for her mother's traitorous behaviour, and she didn't have enough standing with any of the neutral-feeling ones to garner any support. She had thought that Blaise might defend her, but he had taken to the background.

The only thing that really worried her was Draco. She knew that they had to follow through and that everyone had to think that he despised her. What frightened her was that she was beginning to believe him. She often caught him staring at her, but he looked away, angry, every time she stared back. His eyes had deadened, and purple bruise-like bags had settled underneath them for what seemed to be a permanent residence.

She wanted to reach out, to say _something_, but she knew that the best thing for him—for both of them, she reminded herself—would be to put distance between them.

It began in the common room, where all gossip seemed to travel. Daphne sat beside her with concern on her face. "How've you been?"

Kathleen shrugged.

"I'm sorry about your parents. I never did say so properly."

She nodded. Conversation wasn't her strong suit in the Slytherin house—she felt constantly scrutinized while there. The only reason she was in there at all was because Daphne had begged.

"I suppose you and Malfoy are finished then," she stated matter-of-factly, glancing over to the fireplace, where he sat with Blaise.

Her stomach lurched—she didn't know what to say, but she knew that it was the time to say it.

"You're asking Slytherin's only blood traitor?" she asked quietly.

Daphne nodded in disappointment. "You know, I wasn't so sure he'd still care."

"Some things don't change," Kathleen said with such cold bitterness that it surprised her.

"Disgusting," came a voice from behind them, "Daphne, I know you like to make yourself out as charitable, but this is ridiculous."

Daphne turned to face Pansy, who was absolutely brimming with smug satisfaction. Her makeup was a bit bolder than usual, with a bit too much rouge on her porcelain cheeks. Daphne stood defiantly and glared at her supposed best friend.

"You're right," Daphne said clearly, loud enough so that everyone turned. "I'll stop pitying pathetic people out of the goodness of my heart. You are an unbelievable bint, Pansy Parkinson."

Kathleen felt a swell of pride before her brain ignited with activity and she tugged Daphne back down. She didn't want anyone else to have to go down with her ship that she was actively trying to sink. Pansy faltered only momentarily before she nodded calmly and sashayed to where Draco sat.

"You're going to be so lonely, Daph," Pansy sighed, snaking her hand under Draco's arm. She laughed. "Standing up for the Blood Traitor… I thought I knew you better. I suppose we all make mistakes."

Draco winced slightly at her words but said nothing, choosing instead to fiddle with an heirloom ring on his finger. His brows were knitted together in concentration.

Daphne stared murderously at Blaise, waiting for him to shut Pansy down, but he simply stared at Kathleen for a moment before averting his eyes and ignoring the scene completely.

"Really?" Daphne yelled incredulously. "Merlin, you all make a mockery of this house!"

"Interesting," Pansy mused quietly. "Seeing as you're the one acting like a disgrace to your entire family. Wouldn't you agree, Draco?"

Draco looked up sharply, as if he had just come into the conversation. His face caught the light of the fire and Kathleen saw that he was sweating slightly, though the flame was low. He stared directly at Kathleen, evidently panicked, and his voice seemed to catch in his throat, but only for a moment.

Suddenly, as if a calming wave had washed over him, his expression turned to a cocky sneer, the one that everyone was so accustomed to. "Agree with what, that Daphne's sullying herself with her current company or that we all make mistakes?"

His gaze remained trained on her, cold and unfeeling, and she knew that she had prepared, she knew that she had asked for it…

"Well, I'm sorry for the trouble I've caused you, Malfoy, but I didn't realize that divulging my entire history and giving up any semblance of reasonable beliefs were your prerequisites for a relationship with you," Kathleen said with much more strength than she felt and crossing her arms defiantly. This was what they had to do. Eventually, Kathleen would become old news and she would fade into the background and the scrutiny on Draco's actions would lift.

None of that reasoning would shield her from his next remark.

"Trouble?" he scoffed back at her, looking her up and down dismissively and stretching to illustrate how bored he was by the conversation. "The only trouble you've ever caused me was getting the house elves to change my bed sheets so often because you were so damn keen. Don't flatter yourself by believing that I spent any of _my _time fawning—wasting a single _thought_—over someone like you, McCormack_._"

Kathleen's arms fell limply to her sides and her mouth fell open. _McCormack_. Not Kathleen, not O'Malley. _McCormack, _her real name, the one that betrayed her blood and her muggleness, the one that shone the light on their incompatibility. _He didn't mean it, _she thought fiercely, _he's just acting. It doesn't matter that he used that name._

Pansy didn't smile—she didn't have to. She only allowed the faintest of smirks to grace her mouth as she rested her head on Draco's shoulder.

Daphne was saying something to her, but she wasn't listening.

"Right," she murmured numbly. She turned, nodded once, then trailed up the stairs to the privacy of her dormitory, feeling like a ghost.

_He didn't mean it._


	20. Bleeding me, Leaving me

He watched Kathleen stumble out of the common room and felt his throat constrict. He tensed slightly, wanting to follow her, but he felt Blaise's vice-like grip on his arm.

"Don't even _think_ about it," he hissed so quietly that even Pansy couldn't have heard. Draco whipped his head towards Blaise in surprise, but Blaise was looking at something beyond him with frustrated eyes.

_Daphne._

"I think we need to have a talk, Blaise," Daphne said, a quiet fury bleeding into her voice. Daphne had always been the one to defuse tension, never the one to build it—the balance of the Slytherin house had been thrown off and it was surprisingly unsettling. The air in the room was becoming so thick that Draco worried they may all suffocate on the angry, awkward silence.

_If only,_ he thought cynically.

"Right," Blaise mumbled dejectedly before turning to Draco with a menacing look. "If you run off, I'll skin you alive, understand?"

Blaise put his arm on Daphne's shoulder to lead her up to his room, but she shook him off furiously and chose to punctuate their silent conversation with glares.

Draco faltered for a few moments before staggering up to the dormitories, past Blaise's room (which obviously had a silencing charm cast over it, for he knew that Daphne would be screaming at him at this very moment) and into his own before collapsing onto his bed.

This was his life. This was his bloody life. He was pissed at O'Malley for doing exactly what she said she would, for trying to help him, for insulting his own stupid choices with her comments. He just _had_ to make her hurt just as bad as he was. This girl, this girl that was supposed to mean _nothing_ to him still consumed his every moment. Why?

_Because you're a fucking idiot, Malfoy, that's why._

Not only that, he'd dragged his best friend—his _only_ friend—into his tirade and likely lost him a girlfriend in the process. He just had to keep his sodding mouth shut while Blaise was beside him, let him try to distance himself from the blood-purity feud, but _no_, he couldn't even accomplish that. Merlin, Blaise was going to kill him.

It'd be a welcome act of friendship at this point.

He waited for what seemed like an eternity before he heard Blaise's door slam and Daphne stomp away.

"Daphne!" Blaise called out. "I _couldn't_—"

"_I would have!_" she shot back before the sound of her footsteps trailed out of earshot.

His door opened and Draco stood, not realizing he had been holding his breath as he listened. Blaise didn't look at him for a moment, he only closed the door behind him and stared at the floor, enraged.

"Well?" Draco asked hopefully, but his tone betrayed him.

Blaise glared at him for only a split second before laying Draco across the jaw with his fist.

"You _stupid _prick!" he screamed. "Thanks a _load_!"

"I didn't ask you to—"

"Shut up, Malfoy!" Blaise snapped furiously. "_You _told me that Kathleen wasn't a blood traitor!"

"Well, she hadn't told me in certain terms that she _was_," Draco growled, holding his throbbing jaw.

Blaise screwed his eyes shut and blew out air before attempting to swing at Draco again, but he was prepared this time and caught his hand before it made contact. He threw his weaker arm toward Draco but missed again.

"You are so goddamn selfish, you know that?" Blaise shouted, struggling against Draco's attempts to restrain him. "If I had known you were going to intentionally put yourself in such a ridiculous situation and refuse any help or reason, even if it meant fucking _everyone _else in the process, I might have rethought trying to give you a hand!"

"You think that I did this on purpose?!"

"WILL YOU TAKE SOME BLOODY RESPONSIBILITY FOR YOUR ACTIONS?" Blaise roared. "_You _knew what Kathleen was. _You _knew who you were. You knew what you had to do! Ergo, _you knew not to get involved with her!_" Blaise pushed Draco off of him and swore. "Daph's never going to speak to me again!"

Draco winced. "Just explain to her what happened," he offered sheepishly, ashamed of his actions but unready to admit fault for them.

"A little late," Blaise scoffed. "I already did. She's livid that I didn't tell her sooner, that I didn't trust her enough to let her know that you dumping O'Malley was just a big act. She said I made a fool out of her. And then there's the minor issue that I actually _did _happen to believe that blood traitors are pathetic."

Draco involuntarily cocked an eyebrow and did a double-take. "_Did_?"

"Did, do, what does it fucking matter?" Blaise snapped. "I liked Kathleen enough but I think her beliefs are idiotic, especially considering that she could have saved not only her own hide but her sister's too by just admitting that she was wrong. I don't hate her like I hate the Weasels, but I thought she had a better head on her shoulders."

"You can't honestly expect her to have gone along with someone who just killed her parents," Draco replied waspishly, and he was shocked at his words as soon as he'd said them.

"What's the matter with you?" Blaise demanded. "It's not a matter of principle, Malfoy, it's a matter of self-preservation. You should know that better than anyone. You've agreed to kill an innocent old wizard to save your own skin. Or have you changed your mind about that, too?"

"No," Draco whispered, and suddenly he felt very, very tired.

It was their fundamental difference. O'Malley would die for what she thought was right, and he would die for nothing but himself. No questions asked. It had always been that way; the words had just never been said explicitly. His father believed in blood supremacy, but that wasn't why he was a Death Eater. If it were, he would have never answered to a half-blood about such matters.

The reason his father was a Death Eater was because he was quick to recognize where power lay and he was always conscious of being on the favoured side of power holders.

"That's what I thought," Blaise sneered bitterly. "I hope Kathleen doesn't get herself killed over her sodding moral conscience."

Draco's heart was exploding in his chest. Every word that he didn't want to hear was being said to him, how could he ignore it any longer?

All the power was in Voldemort's hands now. Blaise was right, Kathleen was being a fool. How the hell was she expecting to survive in a group headed by _Saint _Potter? She could get Bridget back, she could get herself out of danger, she could do all of it—all she had to do was lie.

Lying, as Draco knew, was a viable way of life.

He had to somehow convince her to change her mind. Why had he been so _stupid_?

"What can I do?" Draco asked suddenly.

Blaise did a double-take. "What was that?"

"About Greengrass," Draco replied exasperatedly, "how can I fix it?"

Blaise frowned. "I don't know if there's anything to be done about it, honestly," he mumbled, heartbreak rising through his voice for the first time. "She doesn't trust me and she thinks I'm a prat for choosing not to defend Kathleen."

Draco closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and swallowed. "I'm going to speak with her."

Blaise looked at his friend uneasily. "I'm not sure that's such a good idea."

"Relax," Draco said quietly, "I know what I'm doing."

* * *

><p>Locating Daphne was harder than he had anticipated, though he should have known where she'd be hiding; it was the same place that all girls went to cry.<p>

_And you, for that matter…_

He entered the girls' lavatory quietly, paranoid that someone would catch him. The last thing he needed right now was more rumours.

There was a subdued sniffling coming from the far stall and he walked up slowly, knocking softly on the ancient wood.

"Greengrass?"

"Piss _off_, Malfoy," came her clear reply.

"I'd like to have a word," Draco asked gently, but his voice was confident. His bravado was coming back—he could feel his usual charm building up. As mad as Daphne was, he knew he'd be able to get her to listen. They all listened in the end.

Daphne kicked the door in response. "Do you speak English? I said _get out_!"

"Fine," he replied, resigned. "But if you're going to be angry, be angry at me. Blaise was just looking out for me."

That got her attention.

There was silence for a few moments before Draco could hear her reach for the lock. He made a conscious effort to hide his smug satisfaction.

"What do you want?" she demanded tiredly. It was an odd way to see her—eyes red-rimmed, makeup staining her cheeks. Draco realized that he wasn't aware that Daphne had even worn makeup until just now. _The time women spend to look good for men and they don't even notice…_

He cleared his throat. "Blaise did what he did to make sure that I didn't get into any more trouble, Daph," he started, "and I think you should consider following his actions."

Daphne rolled her eyes and scoffed. "In what realm is it good friendship to socially slaughter another person? An _innocent _person, might I add!"

"Do you remember what happened to my father at the end of last year?"

"Of course I do, what does that have to do with—"

"He pissed off the Dark Lord, Greengrass," Draco said, suddenly aggressive to get his point across. He pinched air between his thumb and forefinger. "My family is _this _close to being wiped off the face of this planet. If we make one false move, we're _finished_. Just so we're clear, making kissy faces at a blood traitor counts as a wrong move."

Daphne frowned and didn't speak for a long time. "That doesn't excuse his actions, Malfoy."

"Doesn't it?" Draco asked cynically.

"It's not _his _family that's in danger!" she snapped. "He has no reason to treat Kathleen that way!"

"See, this is what you're not getting," he whispered harshly. "It _is_ his family that's in danger. _Everyone_ is in danger! That includes you," he added, pausing for effect, "and your family."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Daphne shouted. "Are you threatening me?"

This really wasn't going as smoothly as he'd hoped. Perhaps he was losing his touch...

"No, I'm not bloody threatening you, you stupid girl," Draco snapped. "I'm trying to get you to understand the facts! The Dark Lord is taking over and he's going to kill anyone who goes against him. The first to go after the mudbloods are the blood traitors, Daph, and a blood traitor from the Greengrass family will stick out like a sore thumb."

Daphne paused for a long time, closing her eyes and holding her head in her hands.

"It can't be that bad. Not yet."

"Are you willing to take that chance?" Draco demanded sharply. "_Wake up, _Daphne. People are dying. Don't be stupid. None of us can afford to be self-righteous right now. You're a Slytherin for Merlin's sake, not a bloody Gryffindor!"

Daphne's eyes shot open. "What about Kathleen?"

Despite himself, Draco faltered a bit and blew out air. "I'm going to talk to her. I have to convince her to go along with the Slytherin ideal whether or not she believes it."

"She'll never listen to you," she mumbled angrily. "You're a coward, you know that? Anything to save your precious bloody self."

He resisted the temptation to strike the girl in front of him and chose instead to close his eyes. "I'm trying to help you. We don't happen to have much choice in the situation."

New tears erupted from Daphne's eyes and her resolve shattered. "This so fucked up."

_No shit, Sherlock_. Kathleen had to listen to him. She had to. Her grandmother would be hell-bent on tracking her down, and how hard would it be? Once Dumbledore was gone—once _he'd _killed him—there would be no protection for her. If she kept opening her bloody mouth, she'd be publicly known as a blood traitor and she would have to go into hiding with all of the Mudbloods. She could get Bridget back if she listened, and she wanted that more than anything, even him.

She _would_ listen.

Draco stared hard into Daphne's eyes. "This is reality, Greengrass."

* * *

><p>Kathleen had quickly decided that waiting around in her dorm room wasn't accomplishing anything and was only making her more anxious. Being surrounded by Slytherins was beginning to get to her and she needed a break. She was getting out of this godforsaken house, curfew be damned.<p>

She slipped her cloak over her shoulders and attempted to calm her hair. She had resolved to let Dean's Christmas present rot in the bathroom cabinet, but after two minutes of trying to make herself look half presentable, she gave up and sprayed one of the potions into her locks. Her mane flattened a bit into glossy curls. She was pleased with the result, but she would die before letting Dean have the satisfaction of knowing that.

She crept out through the portrait hole unseen, carefully avoiding contact with anyone. Most everyone was in bed or else huddled around the fire.

Kathleen didn't know where she was going, and she didn't particularly care. She wandered somewhat aimlessly, mostly just walking for the sake of movement.

Or maybe it was because she secretly hoped that she'd walk herself so far that she couldn't find her way back… No matter.

The corridors were quiet. She was oddly comforted by this; the lack of noise, the lack of movement around her. She hadn't realized how chaotic her surroundings were until she'd found a bit of solitude and peace. Her life was a bloody warzone with no respite. She was beyond beat, but at the same time, she felt like she'd never be able to sleep again.

She contemplated popping in to see Seamus and Dean as had been her original intention, but something in the pit of her stomach barred her from doing so. She knew she should be getting back to the dungeons, but she just didn't want to, not yet. Instead, she headed towards the prefect's bathroom—the password shouldn't have changed since the last time she'd been there—maybe she'd have a bath to try to ease her nerves.

She walked past the girl's bathroom and heard footsteps that stopped almost as soon as she realized what they were. She quickly hid behind a suit of armour, scanning the hall for the source but unable to find it. Cautiously, she stepped back out, her eyes fixated on where she thought the sound had come from.

Kathleen almost screamed when her chest came into contact with another body, but a hand slapped over her open mouth before any sound could emerge.

"Are you trying to get yourself expelled?" Draco Malfoy whispered. "What the hell are you doing out of bed at this hour?"

Kathleen wrenched his hand away and stared at him in disbelief, fingers lingering on her waist, his musky smell invading her nostrils without invitation.

"I could ask you the same bloody question—"

"I'm a _Prefect, _O'Malley," he hissed. "I can assure you that no one cares if I'm roaming the halls. As it happens, I'd been up to your room to have a word. I wasn't particularly surprised or pleased to find your bed empty."

Kathleen's heart fluttered while her stomach simultaneously dropped and she looked away, refusing to meet his hard grey eyes. "We agreed that we were finished, Malfoy. And you made it _abundantly _clear this evening that we were going to continue on that trajectory."

"I've had a slight change of heart," he said so softly that Kathleen had to strain her ears to hear. "Come on, we'll get caught if we keep on like this in the open."

Kathleen was going to protest, but he put a finger to his lips and opened the door to the Prefect's bathroom. Reluctantly, she stooped underneath his arm through the doorway and allowed him to follow behind.

"_Muffilato_," he murmured, pointing his wand towards the door.

They stood there silently for a moment. Draco appeared to be ashamed of whatever it was he was about to say, or perhaps of his actions earlier in the night.

"You didn't have to be so horrid to me," Kathleen said to break the quiet stillness that had settled between them. Draco's eyes flashed with something—resentment?—but he kept quite still and wouldn't let a change in demeanour betray his thoughts.

"I _did_," he corrected, "but I won't have to now."

"What are you talking about?" Kathleen asked tiredly. The knot of dread in her gut hadn't eased and she wanted nothing more than to close her eyes and pretend that the world wasn't in front of her. She missed him, _Merlin, _she missed him, but whatever Draco had come up with couldn't solve their problems. _Why _was he making it even harder than it already was? If there had been a way, she would have taken it. "This can't work, Draco," she whispered, turning to leave.

Draco cast a locking charm and cut into Kathleen's path, his expression serious. "Just listen to me. _Please_."

'Please' sounded downright foreign on his tongue and she faltered.

"Alright," she mumbled, hating herself for giving into him so easily.

_You always give in, don't you?_

"There's a solution to this," he started cautiously. She began to look away again, unable to maintain eye contact with him now, but he took her face in his hands and forced her back to him. "No—O'Malley, _look at me_. Do you trust me?"

She closed her eyes despairingly and sighed. "Yes, but—"

"Don't you want Bridget back?"

"Yes, of course I—"

"And you'd do anything to get her back, wouldn't you?" Malfoy continued, licking his lips nervously. Those lips were both a passage and barrier to her—the only time she knew him was when they kissed, yet he kept so much unknown by keeping his lips pursed shut, not daring to let a detail escape between them.

Kathleen eyed him suspiciously and pulled one of his hands away from her face. She was spineless, she knew it, because she couldn't let go of his fingers and break the contact from him that she'd been so craving.

"You know I would," she murmured defensively, "would you tell me what this is all about, please?"

Draco paused for a long moment before speaking. "You have to join them."

Kathleen felt her blood stop in her arteries. Had it always been so cold here?

"_Who?_"

She knew the answer before she had even asked the question.

"Your grandmother," he replied firmly, though he could no longer keep eye contact with her. "And her… _type_."

Kathleen recoiled in disgust. "Draco, if this is a joke, it's _not _funny."

"I don't joke, O'Malley, or haven't you noticed?" he replied bitterly. "Look, I know what this sounds like, but—"

"Like you're out of your fucking _tree_?" Kathleen demanded. "Yes, it sounds a lot like that!"

"_But_," he continued sharply, "it's the only thing that makes sense, Kathleen! If you can just pretend that you buy all of the blood supremacy talk, you can get Bridget back," he said desperately before adding quietly: "and we won't have to avoid each other anymore."

Kathleen felt like her skin had caught fire. "You've forgotten a few _minor_ details!" she hissed through gritted teeth. Her blood was pounding painfully in her ears, like a door slamming over and over again in her face. "My grandmother and her _type _murdered my parents!"

"Exactly!" Draco shouted, and if Kathleen hadn't been so furious, she might have been afraid of him. "And that's _exactly _what they'll do to you if you don't play along! Don't you see? The Death Eaters have control and anyone who opposes them is going to get wiped out!"

"They do _not _have control," Kathleen seethed, "and even if they did, it wouldn't matter. I will _never_ join their pathetic troupe as long as I live, no matter what happens."

"You can't get Bridget on your own," Draco argued in an even voice, "It may not look like they have all the power now, but just you wait. O'Malley, you are a weak witch and they are the most powerful dark wizards in history."

"Watch me!" she spat. "I will _not _have her raised in a world like that!"

"She will be anyway when you die trying!" he roared, stepping towards her threateningly. "Are you really that thick, Kathleen? Your scruples don't fucking _matter_ when you're dead!"

Kathleen was suddenly quiet, and she stepped back from Draco, her hands over her mouth. She wouldn't speak, she _couldn't_, because he sounded just like her.

_…"The scandal that your mother brought—our family would never stand a chance. I knew that we wouldn't survive the first wave of killings. He would target the traitors first to make a statement." …_

_…"I think that, when faced with life or death, you'll learn that there is only survival, whether that be of your body or of your blood—it's the only thing that matters."…_

"Kathleen," he whispered suddenly, causing her train of thought to crash into reality. "You can't ask me to stand by when they tear you apart. _Please, _just listen to me."

There it was, the softness in his voice again, and he was like Nann and he wasn't. The same, but different. How different, though? Did his pretence of caring for her undo the evil of the Death Eaters?

Did caring about her undo her parent's murder?

"I can't, Draco," Kathleen sighed, hugging her arms to her chest and spreading her hand over the smooth wood of her cedar wand, preparing to unlock the door.

He looked at her for a long moment, his hands combing through his platinum hair, pulling at it. She averted her eyes down and began to turn.

His hand closed over hers and pulled her back, and before her was a sight she never expected to see in her lifetime. Draco Malfoy, the great and powerful, the unfeeling and unforgiving, willingly on his knees on the cold, stone floor.

"_Please_," he pleaded, his voice cracking with desperation. To her absolute shock, tears were forming in his grey eyes. There was no barrier between them now. He was presenting himself to her, broken and flawed, asking her for this one thing. This one _impossible _thing. "O'Malley, I'm begging you, do _not _do this to me."

Kathleen ran her thumb over his trembling hand and kneeled down to him. He had totally lost his composure now, his chest racking with silent sobs that he was trying to choke down. She leaned in toward him and let her lips rest onto his, softly at first.

She inhaled his scent and ran her fingers through his hair, pulling him in closer, deepening the kiss and taking all of him in. The firm pressure of his lips, his sweet taste, the feeling of his hands pulling her into him; she needed all of it.

Because this was the last time.

"I love you, Draco," she whispered, tears now streaming down her cheeks too, "and I'm sorry."

He broke from her, his eyes closed tightly, but he said nothing. He fell back down onto his calves, his body defeated, and he held his forehead in one of his large hands.

The door opened without Kathleen saying a word. She didn't look back when she closed it behind her.

She knew she couldn't see him alone again. She wouldn't endanger him and she wouldn't let him influence her towards a darkness that she could never be a part of.

Kathleen was successful for a long while, until an owl dropped in front of her at the Slytherin table, clutching a letter with the name _Draco Malfoy _written neatly on the envelope.


	21. Shame

**_A/N:_**_For some reason, I've been absolutely dreading this chapter since the beginning of the story. But it's a crucial plot point and definitely necessary._

_This chapter is very choppy and probably a bit confusing, but I meant it that way. Kathleen really loses it and I wanted to try to convey the chaos and rawness of the situation._

* * *

><p>Draco hadn't been the only one to approach her about changing her mind towards Death Eaters, at least to the public.<p>

After about a week of notable absence, Daphne re-emerged into the social scene and made a point of taking Kathleen aside. Her eyes were troubled and her tone had been hesitant, but the message was a familiar one.

"Kathleen," she'd said tiredly, "you know I don't agree with it. But it's not just about you or me anymore, is it? I have to think about my family…"

_And you should think about yours._

She hadn't dared to say the words, but they hung in the air still, stinging like a slap in the face. Daphne, who Kathleen had always seen as strong-willed and unaffected by what others thought, had folded under pressure like the rest of them. Daphne was going to usher herself under the blood supremacy blanket and she hoped that Kathleen would do the same. She shouldn't have been so disappointed, but she was.

She _really _was.

"I can't do what you're asking me to," Kathleen replied firmly, tears niggling at the edges of her eyes—much to her own frustration. "And I realize what that means for our friendship, too."

At this, Daphne's face was struck with emotion, clearly hating herself for what she was choosing, but making the choice nonetheless. "You _know _I think this is shit—"

"Yeah," Kathleen half-grunted, half-whispered. "But I know you're going to do it anyway… for your family. Maybe for yourself. Don't worry about me, Daph, I've coped with exile in this house before."

"I don't believe any of it!" Daphne cried tearfully in defense of herself. "You've no idea how horrid I feel about all of this!"

But by this point, Kathleen felt exhausted and she couldn't listen to any more. Angrily brushing a tear from her cheek, she said a terse farewell to her final Slytherin companion and left her house and its occupants behind her.

Her head swam with misgivings and a stabbing, painful confusion. Was she being selfish by sticking to her beliefs? Was it really smarter to be like Daphne and give it up?

What if she never saw Bridget again if she didn't?

* * *

><p>Kathleen's isolation was all but complete. Most of her time in class was alone, save for when she was paired with someone for an assignment. Luckily, Snape always seemed to pair her off with a Ravenclaw in defense against the dark arts rather than another Slytherin that would look down their nose at her with palpable disdain—she wasn't sure if this was because Snape thought a Ravenclaw would compensate for her poor skills or if he had been perceptive enough to notice that she was shunned from her own house.<p>

Meals and leisure time was spent with Seamus, Dean and whichever Gryffindors happened to be around at the time—at least, when their schedules matched up. Their late night meetings had been essentially cut off as well. Snape had caught her sneaking back once and let her off with a firm warning (much to her shock), and since then, he'd always seem to be keeping an eye on her as the evenings grew late.

Quidditch was nothing like it had been, either. Blaise had forbade the team from being nasty to her because she was essential to their winning the Quidditch cup, but that didn't force anyone to speak to her. She got dressed, went out on the pitch, practiced as hard as she could while trying to avoid looking at Draco _whatsoever, _then she showered and it was back to the dregs.

If she didn't look at Draco, it wasn't so hard. She could generally avoid doing so, but every once in a while, she'd catch a glimpse of him, Pansy _painfully _close to him, drinking him in, squeezing his arm with her brightly-polished fingers…

_Stop it, stop it, don't you _dare _make eye contact…_

She shut her eyes tightly and continued walking.

* * *

><p>Whoever said that February was the most depressing month of the year was not wrong.<p>

Luckily, it was reaching the end of the month, meaning that it was only three and a half months until she could leave this goddamned castle.

_Three and a half fucking months._

The thought was enough to send Kathleen plummeting over the edge, and indeed, she could feel her nerves frayed to the wick, her brain paranoid and exhausted. With everything that had happened, with everything that _was _happening—Susan Bones had lost a relative earlier in the week to a Death Eater attack—it was hard to feel like every tiny action wasn't some sign of the apocalypse, that each word wasn't laced with some hidden meaning.

Therefore, if anyone had known how she received the only letter from her parents while they were in captivity, they might not have found her behaviour at breakfast peculiar.

She was playing with her porridge, trying to mush it up further, when she looked up for the owl that usually delivered her copy of _The Daily Prophet._

She glanced over at the Slytherin table—the owl often got confused as to which table she was sitting at—and her blood ran cold.

Rational thought didn't enter her mind before she stood, transfixed on a bird that had landed gracefully on the Slytherin table. She didn't consider that it wasn't an altogether uncommon breed, that it had been months since she'd seen it last, that she really couldn't remember what it had looked like if she had thought about it a moment before… that this couldn't possibly be the owl that had carried her parents final words.

No, none of that crossed Kathleen's mind as she strode with purpose to the table and inspected the owl rather roughly before sprinting to where she knew Draco Malfoy would be on a Saturday morning.

* * *

><p>"O'Malley?" he said groggily, tossing the covers from his bed to the floor, rubbing his eyes to rouse himself. "What are you doing here?"<p>

She stood in the doorway, panting and red with a terrified desperation in her eyes that he didn't yet understand. After two months of silence, of _gutting _him with every look she refused to give, she was just going to show up in his bedroom?

She didn't speak for a moment as tears spilled down her cheeks.

_What the fuck?_

"Kathleen…" he said carefully, now fully awake with blood pounding nauseatingly in his ears. "What's going on?"

She wiped her cheek with her sleeve and he noticed that her hands were shaking uncontrollably—her wand shaking right with it, clutched tightly in her fingers.

_What in the FUCK?_

"What are you—"

"_Finite,_" she whispered dejectedly, pointing her wand at him.

* * *

><p><em>No, no, no, nonononono…<em>

She gripped the handle of her wand and said the incantation quietly but clearly, feeling the power course through her hand and into the wood.

He slapped his other hand over his wrist, but it wasn't enough. His face changed from confusion to panic as the ink of the Dark Mark bled from under his palm, scribbling itself into its rightful place on his pale skin.

Kathleen's hand flew to her mouth and she fell to her knees, instantly blinded by tears. The world became a blur around her and she felt very light, she didn't feel real…

"This isn't what it looks like," Draco said quickly, coming towards her with his hands raised in surrender.

But she couldn't speak; she could only cry harder than she ever had before, even when her parents had died. This couldn't be happening. It _couldn't_ be.

He knelt in front of her, his eyes pleading. "O'Malley, _please, _just let me explain," he whispered, reaching his hand out to hers.

She recoiled harshly and scrambled to the side, avoiding his touch like the blade of a knife. She grabbed for the door handle, but his arm was around her waist and keeping her in.

He seized her wand from her hand with his own and tossed it across the room.

"_Let go of me!" _Kathleen cried desperately, panicked, struggling violently against him.

"O'Malley," he said again, though his voice cracked this time. "I didn't have anything to do with any of it, I never even saw—"

"LET ME GO!" she screamed, beating her fists against his back before he snatched her wrists and held them above her head.

"LISTEN TO ME!" Draco shouted hopelessly. "It's not like that! I didn't have any choice, I couldn't…"

Again, Kathleen was silent—tears of disbelief were her only reply.

He leaned in closer, putting his cheek against hers. "Kathleen, _please,_ I didn't want to have to lie to you."

_"O'Malley, I need you to remember something," he said, his voice oddly quiet. Suddenly, he was weak and brittle, an opposite of the show of anger he had just been displaying. "I never, never wanted to lie to you."_

_"I'm sorry for doing this to you," he whispered barely audibly, almost to himself._

_"Tell me to stop," he breathed, sucking on her collarbone and biting her neck. She stared at him, the words once again catching in her throat. She didn't want him to stop, he knew it."Remember that I offered you a chance out," he whispered._

* * *

><p>"So many chances to tell me," Kathleen whispered almost to herself, shoving her shoulder into him to get his cheek apart from hers. "God, <em>everyone<em> warned me…"

"No, O'Malley!" he protested, forcing her to look at him. Shit_, he had to make her understand, he had to, he had to._ "I didn't mean for this—I didn't want _any _of this to happen!"

She kicked at him ferociously. "Why are you doing this?" she sobbed. "Haven't you had enough?"

"Please," he begged, "I wasn't—I'm _not_ toying with you! All of it was true, I just couldn't—I can't—"

"Think of another lie?" she snarled, her cheeks wet with salty tears. Her face fell into her hands. "Oh god, my parents, my _fucking _parents…" She couldn't seem to string a sentence coherently—she was too overwhelmed.

"I didn't know they had been taken…" he replied numbly, watching the love of his life cracking into pieces before him. He had worried that this day would come sometime, but he never thought…

"_Why have you done this?_" she shrieked, suddenly unburying her face and unleashing her full fury at him. "WHY?"

The rage in her eyes was indescribable and Draco knew at that point that he had never been lower in his life—not when his father was imprisoned, not when he was made a Death Eater, not when he was told to kill Dumbledore.

"I…"

_Draco Malfoy; the mighty, the magnificent._

_Draco Malfoy, the silent._

"I didn't know it would happen like this."

Kathleen freed her wrist from his clutches and slapped him hard in one swift motion. "Bullshit! _Bullshit _you didn't know! I told you, I BLOODY told you who I was from the beginning! I, god—" she balled her hands into fists and pounded them to the floor in blinded frustration. "I tried to HELP you!"

Draco ignored the stinging on his cheek and grabbed her hands again, gently this time, trying to calm her, to do _anything _to fix this mess he'd created…

"Don't _touch _me, you bastard!" she cried violently, wrenching her arms away again. "Why've you done this? For your own amusement or someone else's?"

His brow furrowed with genuine confusion and his palms lay open to the ceiling, as if waiting for her to place her hands back in them. "What?"

"ANSWER ME!" Kathleen boomed, shaking with anger. "Did you do it to punish me for being a blood traitor? For being incompetent? For being born to a muggle father?"

"Kathleen, you don't understand," Draco panted in genuine anguish, grasping hopelessly at whatever chance he had of explaining himself. "I _love_ you—"

SMACK.

"Don't you—"

SMACKSMACK

"EVER"

SMACK

"SPEAK TO ME ABOUT LOVE!"

He allowed her to beat him mercilessly, in a strange way gaining a dark sort of redemption from it; he deserved it, he would allow her this, at the very least. But he needed to speak and he needed her to hear him.

* * *

><p>Kathleen felt herself being flipped onto her back on the stone floor, and suddenly Draco was straddling her, pinning her torso down with his hips. He held her wrists securely with one hand and moved in close to her face, his eyes wide with panic.<p>

"I should've told you," he conceded pleadingly, "but I couldn't, alright? I _couldn't_!"

Tears were still escaping from her eyes, but she was listening. His façade was almost convincing, but she wouldn't allow herself to go there again.

She would _never_ believe a word that came from his filthy mouth again.

_The filthy mouth that's claimed every inch of you, O'Malley, let's not forget…_

"Of course you could have," she growled, struggling beneath him, attempting to buck him off with her hips but with no success. Draco was much stronger than she was.

She was beginning to understand that he always had been.

"No, O'Malley…"

"My name is _McCormack_!" she spat. "O'Malley doesn't exist!"

"I wanted to tell you!" Draco insisted, frustration finally beginning to brew in his tone. "I… I _tried _to tell you."

"What, when I fucking _asked _you? Were you trying then?" Kathleen challenged loudly. Her tears were betraying her fierceness—still. "If you wanted to tell me so very badly, why couldn't you?"

"I—"

His voice seemed to catch in his throat. "I can't tell you."

"You expect me to BELIEVE that?" she cried, now sobbing in earnest. "How can you even pretend that you cared about me when you've been one of _them_ this whole time!" She squirmed underneath him uselessly, trying to free herself, but too distraught to be able to use her body effectively. "You killed my goddamned parents, oh _god_…"

"I never touched your parents, I swear! I never saw them or heard a thing about them!" he protested earnestly.

"IT DOESN'T MATTER!" Kathleen screamed. "DON'T YOU GET IT? IT'S ALL THE FUCKING SAME, MALFOY, BECAUSE YOU'RE ONE OF THEM!"

"Kathleen, if there was anything I could have done for them or Bridget, I would have done it!"

Something snapped in her brain.

_Bridget?_

* * *

><p>She stopped her struggling and her breath became shallow. Draco paled in response, tempted to shake her but resisting. His grip on her loosened—she was slack beneath him.<p>

"Bridge," she murmured, trance-like.

"Are you alright?" he demanded.

Suddenly, Kathleen's gaze snapped forward to Draco and she grabbed his shirt collar, pulling him closer to him. "_Bridget! _Where is she?"

Guilt and disappointment settled in his stomach like a cold and jagged rock, and he couldn't bear to look at her.

"I don't know anything about Bridget," he replied quietly.

"_Please_," she begged. "You can't—you can't do this!"

"I'm not lying to you," he said earnestly, "I don't have any standing with them. I don't know where she is."

He could almost see the hope drain from Kathleen's face.

"Look, I won't tell anyone what I know," Kathleen whispered tempestuously.

"O'M—Kathleen," he started, trying to assure her by holding her face and looking at her seriously. "I haven't any idea where she is or who she's with. I'm sorry."

"You _promised!_" she cried frantically. "I'll do whatever you want, Malfoy! _Please_!"

"I can't—" he began, but in a fit of desperation, Kathleen had managed to wriggle out from under him and run for her wand. Quickly realizing what was happening, Draco scrambled to his desk to retrieve his own.

"_Expelliarmus!" _Kathleen shouted, and he barely deflected it, staggering in the process.

"Tell me where she is," Kathleen ground out through gritted teeth, her wand shaking in her hand.

"I DON'T KNOW WHERE SHE IS!" he roared.

"THAT'S NOT TRUE!" Kathleen howled. She threw more curses at him—stinging hexes mostly, a couple of which hit him—not enough to render him unconscious, but enough to try to elicit him to speak. Finally, he was able to disarm her, her wand clattering to the ground near the door… close to him. She lunged toward it at precisely the same moment the door swung open and revealed none other than Severus Snape.

In a swift, fluid motion, Snape disarmed Draco and restrained Kathleen in his arms, kicking her wand out of reach.

"_WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS_?" he bellowed. It was only then that Draco saw a trembling firstie standing behind him in the corridor.

_Bloody tattle tale!_

Draco gave Snape a warning look that seemed to communicate what had just occurred—at least partially. Snape released Kathleen, a surprised look on his face as if he'd been unaware that he grabbed her in the first place.

* * *

><p>"Professor, you don't understand!" Kathleen began as the defense against the dark arts teacher closed the office door behind him.<p>

"Miss McCormack, I think you will find that I am a bit more enlightened than you might expect," Snape said crisply, sitting down behind his desk and gesturing towards a seat for Kathleen. "And believe me when I tell you that you will not be leaving this room until you tell me _precisely_ what has transpired between you and Draco Malfoy."

* * *

><p><em>AN: Yes, as we all knew it would, shit has definitely hit the fan. Do you guys think Draco will be able to redeem himself to Kathleen?_


	22. A price for silence

_A/N: Because you guys are so amazing with your reviewing and following, I've decided to work my butt off to get you another chapter super quick like._

_There's only one real scene in this chapter, and I will warn you all, this is another depressing chapter. But it's necessary for Draco's sake. And from here, the mood's going to change significantly for Draco and Kathleen :)_

_Feedback is my fuel!_

* * *

><p>Severus Snape raced swiftly through the corridors, Kathleen McCormack's arm firmly in his grip. The girl was digging her heels a bit behind him, squealing with protestation, but there was no time for it. He had told Malfoy to follow along in a few minutes' time and wait outside his office.<p>

It seemed that Draco had not been entirely transparent towards his little love interest. Snape had been foolish to entertain the thought that Malfoy would be, or at least discreet enough to keep his dishonesty a secret. Doing so would have likely ensured that McCormack would leave the boy.

Just like Lily had left him.

But there was more at stake here, now. Snape had a very major _problem _on his hands with this current situation.

Kathleen had proved herself to be vehemently _against _the blood purity movement; that much was clear. He had expected no less of her, particularly considering her grandmother's actions, but it did present an almost insurmountable dilemma if she had knowledge about Draco's new allegiances.

_Just how much does the girl know?_

If she knew about the Dark Mark, Draco was at risk. If she were to divulge to the wrong people—Potter, members of the Order, perhaps—Draco would be caught quickly. The boy, though talented and intelligent, was too reactive and would surely act impulsively, inevitably getting himself into even more trouble.

If Draco were caught, there would be three options: defecting and going into hiding with the protection of the Order, getting sent to Azkaban for treason, or getting snuffed out by Voldemort before either of the former two scenarios could play out. The third option was by far the most likely, but none of them were acceptable. If Draco were caught early, Snape could be killed by the Unbreakable Vow for failing to protect him. If that were to happen, Hogwarts would be overtaken by Voldemort fully when Dumbledore fell. The students would have no chance, and neither would Potter—he wouldn't know that the only solution to destroying Voldemort would be to destroy himself.

And if Snape were to divulge this information _now, _he couldn't be so sure that Potter would be so eager to quest against Voldemort, knowing that it was a suicide mission.

It wasn't the right _time_! The world wasn't aligned for Draco's secret just yet. He felt nauseous just thinking about Kathleen—she hadn't asked to be involved in such a mess; she certainly hadn't warranted it herself. But he had to keep this in control and quiet. If he didn't, three would have to die instead of just one—himself, Draco _and _Dumbledore.

And the Order would inevitably collapse with it. There were no options.

He had to force Kathleen into silence.

* * *

><p>"Professor, it's Malfoy you need to be taking in, not me!" Kathleen shouted, refusing to sit as he had offered.<p>

"Believe me, Miss McCormack, it is much more important that I speak with you," he said in a low voice, his brows knitted together in thought and his eyes dark and unfocused. "What had just happened when I came into Draco's room?"

Kathleen almost started to speak, but hesitated and closed her mouth again. Could she trust Snape?

_Odd as he is, he has been kinder to you lately. Not to mention coming to your parents' funeral out of respect…_

"Please, Kathleen," Snape implored softly. "I need you to put your trust in me. This situation could quite easily put many lives in danger."

"What?" Kathleen demanded, confused, but Snape would not elaborate until she did. She might have hesitated again, but she _wanted _someone to know what Draco had done. She felt this was the only way to get Bridget back—yes, if Snape knew, he could help to sort this, perhaps he could make a deal with Draco to reveal Bridget's whereabouts, or her grandmother's.

"Look, Professor, don't think that I'm crazy, but Draco has the Mark," she said quickly, and was surprised when not even a single emotion passed over his face. "And he must know where Bridget is, if you hurry, he won't have been able to get out of the castle yet, we could—"

"Miss McCormack," Snape interrupted tiredly, holding a hand up to stop Kathleen's rambling. He rubbed his temples with his fingers and screwed his eyes shut. "I'm aware of Malfoy's situation and I can assure you that he will not leave the castle. Now, _do you know anything else about Draco _other than what you've just told me?"

"What I've just told you?!" Kathleen repeated incredulously. "I don't think you heard me correctly, Professor, _he's a Death Eater!_ As in working under _Voldemort! _The Dark Mark is on his wrist!"

"Yes, _I_ _do_ know what a Death Eater is, Miss McCormack," he said rather shortly, and Kathleen had a horrid sinking feeling in her stomach, realizing that her trust in Snape may have been misplaced. "_What else do you know_?"

"What is this?" Kathleen questioned flatly, her face deadly serious. "What did you mean you're _aware _of his situation?"

Snape sighed, staring at Kathleen impassively. "I've known for some time that Draco had been branded. I understand that this is a confusing situation for you. However, I cannot promise to answer all of your questions, though you will have to answer each of mine."

Kathleen paused for a long moment, eyeing Snape, half expecting for him to uncharacteristically burst into laughter and let her in on the joke.

He didn't.

"Why haven't you _done _anything about Draco if you knew?" she demanded finally, poorly concealing her fury in her voice.

"Unfortunately, that is a question that I can't provide an answer for," Snape replied crisply, then he sighed again. "Miss McCormack, I sincerely apologize for what I'm about to do."

Kathleen was about to ask what the hell he meant by that when she felt herself being pulled up, then sickeningly downward. The room became wisps of smoke that formed a familiar scene…

_What the hell?_

Kathleen was face to face with… herself. She was in the corridor outside of the Gryffindor common room, having hushed conversation with Harry Potter. They didn't appear to notice her falling smack dab in the middle of them. She suddenly realized that she was watching her own memory.

Kathleen watched her own eyes narrow.

"This is about Draco, isn't it?" Memory-Kathleen whispered angrily.

"So you have, then," Harry replied enthusiastically. "Because I was wondering—"

"I have _not _slept with Malfoy! What the hell is this all about?"

Harry bit his lip. "Okay, Kathleen, you're going to think I'm mad when I say this… Malfoy is a Death Eater. I'm sure of it."

Kathleen cringed inwardly watching the memory now and couldn't help but wonder how Harry realized what she couldn't months ahead of her.

"Right. And this has to do with me sleeping with him… how?"

"The Dark Mark. No one will believe me because no one's seen his Dark Mark. I thought maybe if you two had—well, you know—you might've seen it."

"Sorry to disappoint," Memory-Kathleen replied sharply, visibly annoyed with Harry. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going to go to bed."

Kathleen felt herself rising and falling again into a new scene, this time at the Gryffindortable, next to Seamus. This, too, she recalled quite clearly, as it had left her highly unsettled at the time.

"He lives in a family of Death Eaters, people who _torture and kill _people like me who believe that everyone deserves equal rights."

"People aren't their family!"

"You think he's any different? I hate to break it to you, Kathleen, but he isn't. He was downright _gleeful _when the Chamber of Secrets was opened and the muggle-borns were being petrified. He takes pleasure in calling Hermione a worthless mudblood, and he's made it incredibly clear that he believes his pure-blood status puts him in a higher order than everyone else. You know what else? Harry says he's a Death Eater, and I'm not so sure I doubt it."

Again, the surroundings morphed, this time to Kathleen's dorm. Her stomach churned when she realized what she was watching, and for a moment she temporarily forgot her anger, overcome by embarrassment.

"STOP!" Kathleen screamed, mortified as Draco rolled up his sleeve to reveal naked and unmarked flesh. She knew what came next, and the thought of Snape viewing it was enough to make her die of shame.

"Don't make me into a monster, O'Malley," memory-Draco whispered, and thankfully, blissfully, Snape left the memory before Draco's lips met Kathleen's.

The final memory was the fight they'd just had in Draco's room. Kathleen was furious—seeing it again hurt even more, looking at every point that he lied to her and everyone that had tried to warn her of the truth.

Mercifully, the room reconfigured around her and the memories ceased.

"How _dare _you!" Kathleen roared, unbridled rage pouring from her, irrespective of any consequence.

"Miss McCormack," Snape began warningly, "I would not have invaded your privacy unless it was _absolutely _necessary. This is a very serious situation."

"No _shit!_" Kathleen barked before she could stop herself. Snape raised his eyebrows at her, but didn't respond. She breathed out forcefully and continued. "Would you mind telling me what is going on here?!"

"As I told you, I've known about Draco for quite some time now," Snape said quietly, folding his hands together tensely. "All that I can tell you is that those who need to be aware of the situation are. If the wrong people were to gain access to this information, it would put lives in jeopardy."

Kathleen stared.

"Could you stop being so bloody vague?"

"Unfortunately not," he murmured flatly. "All that I can afford to tell you is that you _must not _speak of what you've learned about Draco to anyone."

Kathleen was incredulous. "He's a Death Eater! He knows where my sister is, he probably knows the ins and outs of Voldemort's plan—"

"I _highly _doubt that," Snape said with disdain. "Draco is a sixteen year old boy with a short temper. Don't delude yourself of his role, Miss McCormack."

Kathleen turned. She'd had enough—if Snape wasn't going to listen, she'd go to someone who would. She reached for the door, but felt herself being dragged back to the chair by an invisible force.

"_Lives _are at stake here, Kathleen," Snape impressed upon her. "I cannot allow you to leave without ensuring that Draco's secret is safe."

"How am I supposed to know whether or not that's true?!" she snapped, attempting to stand again but unable.

"I truly wish that I could explain," Snape replied, and Kathleen could hear a legitimate sadness in his tone, something she'd never thought possible from the man. "As I see it, there are only two choices I can give you."

"I'm listening," she said softly, slumping down into her chair. Her frustration was overwhelming—what was this big secret that everyone was keeping from her? Why couldn't she know what was _actually _going on?

"The first is to make a vow of your silence on the matter," Snape explained hesitantly. "An unbreakable vow."

Kathleen was startled by that, but she hoped it didn't show. "And the second?" Her voice sounded much smaller than she'd intended.

"If you won't make a vow, my only choice is to Obliviate you," he sighed.

"_What_?" Kathleen shrieked. "You can't—you're a teacher! You can't _do _that!"

"These are extenuating circumstances," he whispered tiredly, squeezing his eyes shut. "I wish to avoid doing so at all costs. I find it to be a harmful and unnecessary practice, not to mention I don't want you finding out about Draco again in a week's time—if I'm even lucky enough to catch you like I did tonight. And there would be questions; blocks of memory missing don't go unnoticed… I would much prefer the Vow, if you are willing to make it."

"An unbreakable vow means that I die if I tell."

"You've been paying attention in class," Snape said with a hint of a smirk, though his tone was devoid of any humour. "Yes, unfortunately, it does. But there is no other way."

"There _has _to be!" she cried.

"No," he responded firmly. "You will understand completely in time why there isn't. All that's required of you is not to reveal Draco to anyone. As soon as his secret is known to the public, you are freed from the vow."

"And when will that be?" Kathleen demanded bitterly, feeling trapped and helpless.

"I don't know," Snape admitted. "I can swear to you that exposing Draco will not help you or your sister in any way. All your silence will be doing is protecting several innocent lives."

She drew in a shaky breath, her head swimming. She wanted to protest further, but she had no fight left. What choice did she have, anyway? If she didn't agree, she wouldn't even know about Draco, and she'd go on being in love with him, believing him to be her Saviour.

Kathleen closed her eyes and nodded.

Snape nodded his head once and stood. He strode to the door and opened it, revealing a red-eyed Draco Malfoy behind it. Hesitantly, the blonde stepped forward.

Unable to do anything else, Kathleen hugged herself and did everything in her power to keep from sobbing.

"Sit," Snape said harshly to Draco, who quickly obeyed. Kathleen refused to look his way, only holding herself tighter when she felt his concerned eyes on her.

"Draco, because of your carelessness with Miss McCormack, we've been put into an awkward situation," he began tiredly, not facing either of them. "Had you possessed some sense and listened to me, this might have been avoided."

Kathleen looked up at this. _Snape had tried to get Malfoy away from her?_

"Kathleen has graciously agreed to make the Unbreakable Vow that she will not reveal you to be a Death Eater."

"_What_?" Draco demanded. "Absolutely not—"

"It wasn't for your sake," Snape cut in coolly. "Nor do you have any say in the matter. You've caused more than enough damage for one night."

"She will _not _put her life on the line just because I've gotten myself into this mess!" he protested viciously. "I won't allow it!"

"It's not only your own well-being at stake, Malfoy," Snape hissed. "As you should know by now. I need you to hold the other's arm."

Defeated, Draco reached his arm out to Kathleen, his face a picture of tortured anguish.

"I'm so sorry, Kathleen," he whispered, shutting his eyes tightly and gritting his teeth. "You never deserved this. I wish you'd never had to meet me."

She couldn't bear to hear it. She couldn't bear to look at him. She placed her arm in his hand and gripped his bicep.

"When you're ready, Professor," she murmured.

Snape put the tip of a wand to their joining. "You'll need to repeat exactly what I say, Draco."

Shakily, Draco nodded.

A thin bit of flame trailed out from the wand.

"Do you, Kathleen, vow to refrain from revealing, in any way, to any person or creature, that Draco Malfoy is a Death Eater, unless under Veritaserum or torture, until this knowledge has been revealed to the public?"

Draco repeated the words, pausing a few times. His voice was weak.

Kathleen closed her eyes. "Yes."

She felt an odd prickling feeling in her bloodstream that subsided after a few moments.

"You may release each other."

Kathleen eyed Snape. "That's it?"

"Yes."

She dropped her arm, knowing that Draco wasn't going to be the one to initiate it. He was looking at her, so empty, so… _broken..._

"You've done a great deed tonight," Snape said solemnly to her. "You cannot know how great."

"May I leave now, sir?" she whispered, barely able to keep from falling to her knees in utter despair. She had lost and she was unable to do anything to fix it. _Again_.

"You may do whatever you wish."

She turned and headed for the door.

"Kathleen," Draco said quickly, grabbing her arm. He was a breath away from sobbing. "I'm so sorry. I should have just let you be... I wish that I had."

Kathleen met his eyes, exhausted, and saw that his desperation matched her defeat. "Yeah," she whispered in disbelief of both of them, of what had just happened, of _everything _that had happened this year. "I wish that you had too."


	23. Dreams

**_A/N:_**_ Thank you, everyone, for all the support you've given me. You guys are awesome._

_From here on out, things are going to start getting a bit more AU. The timelines are going to get a bit muddied from the original books and there will be a number of fairly central events that are going to be portrayed differently. However, I'm still going to be weaving Pins & Needles into the plot of Harry Potter. I'll just be adding (or subtracting) a few snippets here and there ;)_

_This chapter is a bit fragmented (there is a lot of jumping from the past to the present, and in and out of reality) and will be confusing if you haven't read HBP. If you haven't read HBP... you need to get on that._

_Violence and foul language (more so than usual) in this chapter. I own none of Harry Potter._

* * *

><p>"I'm fine, Dean," Kathleen repeated for the six hundredth time, rubbing her face with her hands. "I just want the school year to be over and go home."<p>

Seamus and Dean looked at one another uneasily—neither knew exactly what she meant when she said 'home.' Kathleen had made it known that she didn't plan to stay at Seamus' over the summer, at least not all of it, but she never elaborated what her intentions were.

The truth was that she wasn't sure either. She planned to find Bridget… how that was to be accomplished remained a work-in-progress. All she knew was that something was going to happen, something big. Once it did, she should have her chance to get down to business without those bastards at the Ministry apprehending her for being a wandering ward of the state and sticking her nose where they thought it ought not to be.

She made a conscious effort to tuck into her porridge this morning. Ever since _that night_, her body seemed to shrink, and she hadn't been soft to start with. Much to her own chagrin, she was becoming a bit of a waif. When Madam Pomfrey approached her, fussing and worrying about Kathleen's horrid appearance, she made the decision that she wouldn't let Malfoy destroy what was left of her life. He was a parasite, a _demon_, and he didn't deserve to hold so much weight in Kathleen's life.

But. _Always _but…

_It doesn't make any bloody sense, O'Malley, and you know it._

To which Kathleen would promptly tell her own brain to kindly shut the fuck up.

Seamus and Dean had known that something happened that night, and a piece of her chipped away and fell into an ever growing pile of nothingness each time she was forced to reply with an apologetic stare.

"Why can't you just trust me?!" Seamus had yelled at her one night, finding her alone and listless.

"It's nothing to do with trust," she said quietly.

"Then just _tell _me what he's done to you!" he roared, but he was met with her wall of silence again. She was terrified that whatever she said could be some clue that led Seamus to the truth, and the truth was a death sentence to her. A death sentence meant that she would never see Bridget again; Bridget might never see the outside world again.

Not to mention there was a part of her, no matter how small, that housed a fear of death.

Dean and Seamus had predictably reacted with threats to Draco, but they were disappointed to be up against a shell of the former Malfoy. Though not repentant, Draco Malfoy was devoid of his usual veracity and reactivity. Seamus had tried to duff him up, demanding to know just what he'd done to his best friend, and all he got in return was a hand covered in Malfoy's blood, a half-hearted shove back and an ambiguous explanation.

"I took everything," Malfoy'd said, laughing darkly and with absolutely no happiness. He just wiped his bloody lip with his crisp collared shirt sleeve and continued walking along emotionlessly. "Just like we both knew I would."

* * *

><p>Draco had been much more productive these days. When life was decidedly devoid of anything to look forward to, the prospect of getting yourself killed didn't seem so daunting. He hadn't quite realized just how much O'Malley had become familiar to him, how much he depended on her coy smile and how much he looked forward to the next time he'd speak to her, even if he didn't know when that would be.<p>

He was being punished for his wickedness. This much he knew. He must be paying for his spoiledness, his arrogance, _something_. People didn't just suffer, they suffered for a reason. The Mudbloods suffered for being an abomination. Potter suffered because he was an insufferable twat.

Draco Malfoy suffered because he was selfish, yes, that must be why. He had realized all too late that if he had taken a small dose of anguish in the beginning, if he had let her go as he should have, he would have been spared this bloody torture he'd put himself through. What made it worse was that this knowledge had been blatantly presented to him in beginning.

_"_Do _not _expect my sympathies_," _Snape had hissed after Kathleen had taken the Unbreakable Vow and Draco sat in the DADA Professor's office, devastated and silent. "I _warned _you to let the girl alone and you didn't listen. Considering that, you should be grateful. Your secret is safe for the moment and so is she, which is more than you could have asked for taking into account who she is and _what _you are."

Draco had regarded the man with such hatred that Snape rolled his wand in his palm a bit to remind him who was in control. "Just because she's safe doesn't mean she's alright," Draco protested weakly, slumping back into his chair with a definite air of defeat.

"You have no one but yourself to blame for that," Snape had replied coldly. "And if you have _any _decency, you'll let her believe you are every bit as evil as she thinks you are right now. Don't even _think _about trying to explain yourself."

"How am I supposed to know how she's—"

"You _don't_!" he snapped, "and that is precisely the point! If you have any concern for her, disappear from her life. The kindest thing you could do for her is to make sure she _never _finds out."

"What the fuck do you know?!" Draco roared, suddenly enraged by being told what to do by someone who had obviously never cared for someone else—the thought of _Snape _possessing affection for another human being was nothing short of laughable.

What almost seemed like a sad sort of smile twitched at the corner of Snape's lips, as if he had some secret that Draco was stupidly unaware of.

"Trust me, Draco," Snape said softly, almost kindly; "it would serve you well."

_Trust_. High unlikely.

_There's not a person on this planet that you haven't lied to in order to save your own ass, Malfoy._

And so it would stay.

* * *

><p><em>Trust<em>. No longer in Kathleen's vocabulary.

So when Snape approached her, needless to say, she was not very receptive to the visit.

"Miss McCormack—" Snape began, but was cut off abruptly.

"_Kathleen_," she growled. Hearing either of her surnames—the fake one or the one her parents had passed onto her—evoked an instant anger that made her want to drive her fists through the wall, or better yet, into Snape's hooked nose.

"Kathleen," he corrected himself, his tone solemn but calm.

"What do you want?" she demanded viciously. Snape was an easy target for her blame; he knew Draco's secret all along, he watched her memories, he _made _her take this fucking unbreakable vow. The fact that she had started to feel a sense of comfort from the professor only aggravated the wounds.

"I was hoping," he replied slowly, biding each of his words cautiously, "to rectify some of what has happened."

"What could you _possibly _do to change anything?" she asked bitingly.

"Change, no," Snape conceded quietly. "I cannot _change _anything. But I can offer you my help."

"I don't need your help," Kathleen breathed hatefully, moving to leave.

"When I invaded your mind," he called loudly, commanding her attention as she clutched the edge of the door, "it frightened you. I could feel it."

She turned back to him quickly, a scowl etched on her features. "Of course it _frightened _me. Do you have any idea what it's like to be so involved but so absolutely _powerless_?"

Snape nodded but provided no answer to the rhetorical question. "I can teach you power. I can teach you control." He paused, eyeing Kathleen warily, and he sighed. "I can train you so that no one is able to invade your mind again."

Kathleen narrowed her eyes at the man before her. "Why," she whispered cautiously, "I want to know why you'd do that."

Snape said nothing for a long time, his dark eyes impassive and his expression unreadable. "I owe it to you."

Kathleen considered this for a few moments, unsure of its meaning. Then again, what _did _she understand lately? Snape was right. The legilimency _had _scared her. Snape was offering her something she desperately desired—control.

She relented.

"Teach me."

* * *

><p>Draco's resources were limited. Kathleen didn't speak to a soul in Slytherin—she seemed to have forfeited all relationships there—so hearing things through the grapevine hadn't been as effective as it once was. He had to resort to eavesdropping. He should have been ashamed of his behaviour, but he wasn't. He had no other way to know what she was up to, what her plans were for Bridget.<p>

The last he'd heard, she'd joined up with a reincarnation of Potter's pathetic troupe, _Dumbledore's Army_. He never had been entirely sure what went on in that little club, though he was quite confident he'd be denied membership to try and find out.

Not that it mattered anyway. The look in O'Malley's eyes that night had assured him that he was fully and permanently damned to her. This lingering on her wasn't doing anyone any good. He admitted, though did not accept, that he had to let her go. He needed to forget her smiles and her ridiculous hair; they were never meant for him, anyway. He hoped that Bridget would appreciate the goddess that her sister was as she grew up… that was, if they were ever to meet again…

He chewed absently on his already cracked lips, almost welcoming the coppery taste it brought, and thought about O'Malley's mysterious sibling. Was she worth all of it? Things could be so much easier for Kathleen if she weren't hell bound on raising the girl out of the Dark Lord's reach. This, he supposed, was only fair given the circumstances; for all he knew, he'd be a world famous quidditch star by now if not for his Death Eater upbringing.

He allowed himself to relish that thought.

If he were a world famous quidditch star, he'd have his own flat, tastefully bursting with exquisite furnishings and ungodly expensive suits hanging in the closet. Dark, though not cold like the Manor had been. Maybe some tapestries and a fireplace whose mantel showcased his many trophies.

He would have scotch, he decided, though he wouldn't need it like he found himself needing the firewhiskey. Just there for the occasional drink. Yes, that seemed very refined, very Malfoy.

Malfoy minus Death Eater, that is.

With his scotch, he would have his teammates. They would come over after a victorious game (_every _game, naturally), laughing over drinks, or whatever it was that normal young adults who actually had friends did. He envisioned himself as being kinder—no less smooth than now, but the defensive edge would be worn away, and he wouldn't be so jaded. Suave Malfoy, but with a smile on his face. A _real _one.

The image sat well with him.

And the faint scent of cinnamon, permeating each corner of the flat. After another successful night of playing host, he was sitting across from her, eating the breakfast they'd made together, making conversation with their eyes from across the table. Her hair was at critical mass from sleep and she looked ridiculous, and she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. Her hand reached slowly for his fingers and rubbed them tenderly, a coy smile on her face.

He leaned in, unable to resist. Her lips were so full and she closed her eyes as her hands came to his face, holding him. Peace. Peace, because she knew everything and she loved him. Peace because there was nothing holding him back from loving her just the same.

_Perfect_ was all he could think as his lips made contact. He could smell her, the sweet vanilla, the cinnamon, the faint aroma of sex still stuck to her skin, and he just needed to taste her now, just to taste…

_Blood?_

Draco fell back out of his chair in shock, having been unaware that he'd fallen asleep. His mouth was swimming with the metallic taste and he realized absently that he must have bitten his lip as he was dreaming.

His heart was pounding. Without even registering what he was doing, Draco was running, and only once he was at the sink staring at his own reflection did reality begin to come back to him.

He was gasping for breath. His chest felt like it was ripping apart from the inside. There was blood smeared all across the left side of his face.

His reflection was horrific, taunting. It reminded him that everything he wanted was everything he would _never_ have.

Before he had allowed his fantasy to consume him, he had been writing to his aunt Bellatrix, negotiating which Death Eaters would enter the school on the final night to back him up, to ensure that no one got in the way of murdering Dumbledore.

Draco Malfoy began to cry.

"Don't," said a small voice from one of the cubicles. It was a voice he had heard once before when he had been in distress, the Mudblood ghost, Myrtle. "Don't… tell me what's wrong, I can help you…"

"No one can help me," he choked out shakily. "I can't do it… I can't… I have to do it soon… He says he'll kill me…"

He was sobbing, his eyes shut tightly, and he met his reflection again.

Someone else was in the mirror.

Draco wheeled around, brandishing his wand in a jerky but swift movement. Out of reflex, he sent a hex and blocked another, but his eyes never left the intruder. The embodiment of his suffering, Saint Potter, _the boy who lived_.

_"Why does he want Dumbledore killed?"_

_"Dumbledore is the only thing protecting Potter. Once Dumbledore is finished, the Dark Lord will have him."_

This was _his _fault. If not for the scarheaded cunt that stood before him, _everything _would be different.

He could barely hear the frightened wails of Moaning Myrtle over the voice that spoke inside his own head.

_He'll pay for it, _Draco thought, demented with rage; _I will make him pay._

"Cruci—"

"SECTUMSEMPRA!" Harry bellowed.

Draco fell back, an unseen sword ripping cleanly through his chest and neck and as he collided with the cold stone, he realized that the boy who lived may have finally done him in. He shook involuntarily with the blood that was spilling from him, but inside, Draco was thankful for Harry Potter for the first time in his life.

* * *

><p>Kathleen had come to accept the odd relationship that she held with Professor Snape. They exchanged few words during her Occlumency lessons, and he was harsh with her—always demanding more, refusing to let her perform at any less than her maximum.<p>

She recognized that the lessons were an apology on some level. Though she didn't understand why, she now knew that for whatever reason, Snape was truly sorry for getting Kathleen involved. But just as he never articulated his troubled conscience, Kathleen never thanked him for teaching her how to keep the demons out.

Snape fell back into his chair, his face a little bewildered. Kathleen steadied herself as Snape ripped out of her subconsciousness.

Feeling her feet planted firmly on the floor, Kathleen involuntarily cracked a grin. For the first time, she had completely blocked him—despite pushing with full force, Snape had been unable to infiltrate Kathleen's mind.

Snape had an odd look in his eye—an _almost_ approving gaze—and he was about to say something when a scream shattered through the silence.

"MURDER! MURDER IN THE BATHROOM!"


	24. Spectrum

Without more than a startled glance at Snape, Kathleen's feet flew in the direction of the washroom. She could hear Snape breaking into a half-run behind her, but she didn't wait for him to catch up. The bathrooms were all the way on the far side of the corridor—there wasn't time for it.

There were no discernible thoughts in her mind when she wheeled around the corner, but the sight in front of her seemed to grind her cognition to an absolute halt and she felt her knees buckle.

"Wha—what…" she stammered breathlessly as she scrabbled to her knees to help.

Harry was panting heavily, shaking his head in disbelief and murmuring incoherently. As Kathleen got to the floor, he seemed to wake from his horrified trance and he joined Kathleen, trying uselessly to do something with his shaking hands.

"Get _off!_" Kathleen screamed. "Snape! SNAPE!"

The blood was everywhere. His eyes were closed and his breathing was shallow and stilted.

Draco was bleeding out.

She couldn't tell where the wound began or ended and she frantically wadded up bits of his torn shirt, leaning over his chest. Kathleen pressed hard at the crook between his jaw and neck, where the blood was pouring most freely.

Draco let out a sort of humming moan and his eyes opened sleepily. His gaze fixed on Kathleen and she could see his confusion. His chest began to heave a bit, a sort of gurgled exhale came from him and she couldn't tell what was happening—

Was he _laughing_?

Bewildered and consumed with adrenalin, Kathleen seized his hand with hers and leaned over his chest, never letting pressure off from his neck. His gaze met Kathleen's for a moment before Draco's lips formed a sort of crooked smile and his eyes rolled back. His eyelids slid downwards and closed.

Snape burst into the room and didn't hesitate for even a moment before shoving Harry out of the way and kneeling at Draco's chest. Kathleen backed up, but somehow she still found Draco's hand in hers.

The professor was muttering something—exactly what, Kathleen couldn't tell—but it was stitching Draco's skin back together quickly, damming the bleeding. Snape's eyes were pure concentration and his wand movements were surgically precise—if he was panicked, he certainly wasn't letting on.

It was only then that Draco showed that he was in any sort of distress. His free hand moved clumsily to where Snape was mending and he began to moan. His eyes opened a fraction and he became visibly agitated—the moans became more agonized and he began to twist away from Snape's wand.

Snape placed his palm firmly on Draco's shoulder to keep him still as he reached the end of the gash in his neck. Once the last of the wound had closed, he slung Draco's arm around his shoulder and hoisted him up with some difficulty. He was dangerously pale and was doing almost nothing to support himself against Snape.

"Professor—" Kathleen protested, still on her knees on the puddle-strewn floor, but he cut her off with a sharp look.

"He needs blood replenishing potion," he barked, giving Harry a deadly glance. "Make sure _Potter _stays. Lean on me, Draco, if we move quickly we may be able to limit the scarring with dittany…"

Draco looked at Kathleen drunkenly from underneath his drooping eyelids for only a moment before he used the last of his strength to turn away from her and clutch onto Snape's robes to support his feeble steps.

Kathleen sat there, staring at the door, unable to think.

Draco's blood was in her hair.

"Kathleen… I didn't…"

Her head jerked up in Harry's direction suddenly, her mouth open in confusion. She said nothing, only looked back down at her stained hands and at the floor, trying to absorb the scene in front of her.

"I didn't mean…" Harry panted, seemingly unable to string a sentence together. He ran his hand through his mop of chestnut hair shakily. "I didn't know…"

Kathleen could say nothing; it felt like her brain was buzzing but somehow silent. She was breathing heavily and blinking quickly, trying to regulate herself but only aggravating the disquiet she felt.

"Kathleen," Harry said desperately, moving toward her to help her up from the floor. Immediately, she recoiled and drew her wand.

"_Don't_," she whispered, terror seeping through into her words. Harry raised his hands in surrender and instantly retreated. They both allowed their heads to fall into their hands—Kathleen falling into a daze, Harry apparently in disbelief.

Kathleen should have been asking him what happened; she should stand up out of the puddle of water that was pinked with blood; she should repair the sink that had exploded somewhere in the crossfire that was bursting with water, raining over them like a cruel metaphor. Instead, she sat there silently with Harry, opening her eyes and closing them again over and over, listening to Harry's staggered breaths.

_What if he dies?_

The thought was just about only one that she could hold in her mind, and it was ringing in her ears.

_What_ _would it matter if he did?_

Arguably the more important question.

Neither of them realized Snape's presence when he returned, even when he repaired the sink and the downpour suddenly ceased.

He cleared his throat rather loudly and Kathleen snapped out of her trance.

"Is he—"

"Alive, yes," Snape replied sharply, his black eyes alight with rage at Harry. "You're dismissed, Miss McCormack. I would suggest you go to your dormitory _without any detours_," he ordered pointedly. His eyes never left Harry.

"But…" Kathleen began, though she didn't know where her protest was going exactly. She stumbled awkwardly to stand; she couldn't seem to get her footing.

"_Out_," Snape hissed. "And _to your dormitory!_"

Reluctantly, Kathleen staggered out of the bathroom, aching for explanation but knowing she would receive none. She resented Snape for insinuating that she'd have gone up to the hospital wing if he hadn't instructed her otherwise.

_Wasn't that precisely what you planned to do_?

She folded her arms tightly over her chest and began wandering back to the common room while her mind took a journey of its own. She could hear her father's voice asking, reassuring.

_Whats'a matter, kiddo?_

Draco, on the floor, dying. A sudden stillness in her brain, in _everything._

She had felt it only once before.

_It grieves me to tell you, Miss McCormack, that your parents and sister have been murdered._

She felt dirty and traitorous. One image, one touch—his warm blood weeping through her trembling fingers—all logic bled away. Suddenly, the fragments of her scattered mind shifted, and the only thing that mattered was the beautiful, faint heartbeat that she could feel pulsing lightly under her.

_I won't let you ruin everything for someone like me._

"Someone like me," she whispered softly. _And just _who _are you, Kathleen?_

It seemed, somehow, that she was both O'Malley and McCormack. But the two lived independently of one another; they could not be reconciled.

She could not achieve the ideals of McCormack while enjoying the pleasures of O'Malley.

She climbed tiredly through the portrait hole, her mind too clouded to realize that not only could she be at the mercy of her housemates there, and that she was soaked with sticky crimson fluid nearly from head to toe.

"Bloody _hell!_"

Kathleen's head snapped up and reality came back to her in a rush. She felt a pair of hands wrench hers from her ribs, and only then did she realize that she had been clinging to herself for dear life.

"The fuck is all this?" Blaise demanded, grabbing her by the shoulders roughly and scanning her robes with wide eyes. Kathleen's wand—previously tucked tightly under her arm—clattered to the floor noisily.

"Blaise, don't hurt her!" Daphne protested, pulling him back. It seemed that the two of them had managed to reconcile, to which Kathleen felt absolutely no happiness. "Kath, are you… are you alright?"

An awkward silence hung over them as Kathleen chose how to respond. _Proceed with extreme caution._

"I'm fine," she replied evenly, collecting her wand up from the ground and casting a strong _Scourgify _over her robes to clear the blood away, though nasty rust-coloured stains remained. "There was a fight in the bathroom on the first floor."

Daphne and Blaise snuck an uneasy look at one another, but it was Blaise who spoke. It was the most conversation that Kathleen had had with him since October. "A fight with _who_?"

Blaise's eyes were boring into hers and she faltered a bit.

"Harry and… Draco," she mumbled. Blaise frowned, but showed none of the shock that passed over Daphne's face. Kathleen took great notice that Blaise didn't bother inquiring about _why _they'd fought.

"He's alright?" Blaise continued, though it was more of a statement than a question, as if he could tell just by looking at Kathleen.

She nodded before speaking. "According to Snape. He's the one that saved him—I don't even know what it was Harry used against him…"

"Wanker," Daphne muttered, and despite herself, Kathleen smirked at Daphne's tendency to bluntly state what no one else would. The appreciation was immediately followed by an uncomfortable feeling in her gut, because it was the first time that she realized she might have actually _missed_ the companionship of a Slytherin.

"He's up in the hospital wing," Kathleen added lamely before turning towards the dormitories.

"Oh, come on," Daphne said in exasperation, grabbing onto Kathleen's hand. "Just because I left you out in the cold and folded under pressure like a spineless slag doesn't mean I'm a _complete _asshole."

Kathleen smirked a bit at that, but she also noticed that Blaise was eyeing his girlfriend—lover, fuck buddy, whatever the hell they were to each other—quite warily. He looked to Kathleen and narrowed his eyes a bit, but not maliciously or impassively like he had so many times before. It was almost like an acknowledgment of comprehension, of weary and begrudging understanding.

"I'll help you get cleaned up," Daphne offered. When Blaise raised his eyebrows at her reproachfully, she glared at him and began an impassioned monologue that had obviously been brewing in her for some time. "What? No one's going to see us, so I think I'm safe from the blood traitor accusations, unless _you_ decide to rat on me. You know I think the blood supremacy crap is a complete crock, unlike _some_ people!"

Daphne shot a venomous look at Blaise then. Apparently, the tension hadn't been entirely resolved, but Kathleen couldn't quite force herself to care. In her opinion, Blaise was an unfeeling prick who moved about life only as it worked in his favour. He had been the first to speak to Kathleen, one of the friendliest, but as soon as her family history surfaced, he looked through her in the common room and never said a word to her again. As far as she was concerned, he deserved whatever punishment he was dealt.

Blaise narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth to speak, but was immediately cut off.

"Don't you say a _word_, Blaise Zabini," Daphne breathed dangerously. "As if I need another excuse to kick your ass to the curb for good."

Blaise's mouth snapped shut like a trap and his eyes lowered shamefully to the floor. Kathleen stared in amazement; she had never witnessed Blaise chastised or even so much as _directed _by another human being—not even Draco. She suddenly realized that whatever there was between the two of them ran much deeper than she had thought. Daphne was not Blaise's casual fuck or even his friend; she was his rock and his grounding force in the world, keeping his feet on the ground and his heart beating in his chest.

She never pictured Blaise as being so human as to need such a thing.

* * *

><p>"I thought you'd be pissed at me," Daphne muttered as she rubbed at Kathleen's shoes with a cloth dampened with cleaning potion.<p>

"I think you're a bloody coward," Kathleen replied without hesitation, unbuttoning her blouse so Daphne could get at it with the potion as well.

"Fair enough, I suppose," she sighed, handing the first leather flat back to Kathleen before facing her, finally gathering the courage to look her in the eye. "It's not as if I've redeemed myself any tonight, though. I wouldn't have come up here if Pansy'd been watching," she said honestly, but she managed to hold Kathleen's gaze through the confession.

"I'm aware," Kathleen returned tonelessly, shrugging her shoulders and arching an eyebrow just slightly.

"So what, then?" Daphne demanded, tossing the second shoe to the floor. "Why? Do you forgive me? Why are you even _speaking _to me?"

Kathleen picked up her flat calmly and stared at Daphne for a few moments before replying. "I thought that everything was black and white, Daph. I was wrong… It's all grey. Nothing is fucking simple." She exhaled and pushed her hand through her hair. "Despite what I'd like to think, I'm only human, and I'm completely on my own. I have two people in my life who will speak to me. My life is shit, I _feel _like shit, and I'm really goddamned lonely."

Daphne was dumbfounded before she seized Kathleen in her arms and held her for dear life.

"I _hate _this," she hissed, obviously trying to fight crying. "I fucking hate _myself, _because I know that I'm just going to keep on. I'm usually the one to stand up for myself, but this time, I… just can't do it."

Kathleen slapped Daphne's head with her shoe, earning a surprised yelp and an incredulous stare.

"I've had enough crying and sap for a lifetime, Greengrass," she barked, but she cracked a small smile. "It's alright. Really. We didn't exactly choose it, did we? We have to make do with what we've got. I won't fault you for it… Well, not entirely."

Daphne laughed a bit at that, rubbing the beginnings of tears out of her eyes. Kathleen stripped her shirt off—she didn't see the point of trying to clean it, the thing was clearly ruined—and she noticed Daphne's attention was on her ribcage. Confused, she looked down to see what the fuss was about.

Four long bruises marked each side of the lower part of her chest, the far edges darkening to an angry purplish red that was punctuated with thin crescent-shape cuts.

It was where she had held herself when Snape had left with Draco—when she was considering the thought of him dying.

"Christ," Daphne murmured. "He really has done a number on you."

* * *

><p>Draco sat with his elbows propped on his folded knees with his forehead in his hands.<p>

He had never felt worse in his life. It was like he had been trampled by a dragon, eaten by it, spat out, lit on fire, and eaten again.

"You need to rest up, Mister Malfoy," Madam Pomfrey instructed gently. "You'll be back to normal soon enough."

He glared at her murderously.

She raised her eyebrows as if to reprimand him, but she seemed to think better of it and she waddled off.

_Fucking finally._

When Potter hit him with the curse, he hadn't felt any pain. His body had gone into shock almost instantly, and he could have died right there with O'Malley's curls in his face. She had _held _his hand. Voluntarily. Even above the coppery taste that was assaulting his senses, it was there, the cinnamon, the beautiful essence of Kathleen.

He would have died happy, but that wasn't allowed. Snape's meddling fingers—healing him, stitching him back, and _who the hell did he think he was?_

But no pain yet, mercifully. The devastation of having a vision of O'Malley with Severus Snape was enough tragedy for one moment. Even as he was pulled up and delirious, he felt nothing, not even his feet as he apparently dragged them across the floor.

By the end, Snape had to levitate him into the hospital wing as he was reduced to a useless deadweight, unable to even direct his weight to lean onto the former potions master.

Something was shoved into his mouth and he started choking against a highly viscous substance, and _Merlin, _did he feel the pain then.

His body seemed to erupt at every vessel as the potion worked to create more blood, and the gash Potter had bestowed upon him was suddenly acute and it felt like—well, it felt like someone had tried to rip him apart with dark magic.

He dimly decided that he would never use that particular spell on anyone, not even his worst enemies. Ever.

His solitude was short-lived as Snape came slowly to the side of his bed and sat without saying anything. He stared at Draco, his face set in a frown but his beady eyes unreadable.

"Why are you here?" Draco sneered, and it took all of his nerve not to wince at the sharp pain that speaking caused.

"I thought that much was obvious."

"Enlighten me, then."

Snape sighed heavily and his frown deepened, his eyebrows pinching together. "I came to see if you were alright."

Draco laughed harshly and this time he did wince (and yelp, though he covered it by coughing a bit—which hurt twice as much as the laugh had).

"Is something amusing to you, Malfoy?" Snape asked tightly.

"You don't give a damn about me," Draco retorted, turning to face him. "But don't worry; you didn't give me the small mercy of letting me die, so your precious _Unbreakable Vow _remains intact."

Snape was silent for several moments and the two of them seemed to be competing in a staring contest. Finally, he spoke.

"I would not have allowed you to die," Snape said slowly. "I did recognize, however, that it was your deepest desire for me to do so."

Draco said nothing, but he broke his gaze with Snape, folded his arms over his knees and rested his chin there. He stared at the wall.

"I know what you think of me," Snape continued, "but I have felt every emotion that you did when you were bleeding out on that floor. I know what you are feeling. And I'm sorry for it."

Draco's eyes flicked back upward to Snape in surprise, but he still remained silent—more now because he wasn't sure of what to say.

"I will do whatever I can to help you, Draco," Snape said stiffly. "Even after your task, if it's possible. But I think you're beginning to understand what it is you have to do, now."

Draco's eyes unfocused and he nodded. He did understand. His life may have been dispensable to him, but there were others that weren't. The fact that he cared so little for his own preservation only meant that he was willing to give up more for everyone else—his mother, his father, his…

_That stops here, Malfoy. No more._

Not even her name.

"You don't need to stay here," Draco said quietly. "I know she'll come up eventually. I'm going to take care of it."

Snape didn't need explanation. He nodded, stood, and left Draco to prepare himself.

* * *

><p>She tiptoed and concentrated on her disillusionment charm. It wasn't a strength of hers, but she could manage it for the few minutes it took to get up to the hospital wing, anyway.<p>

She crept around the corner, silent and charmed into invisibility—

"I know you're there."

The suddenness and certainty of the voice startled her so much that the disillusionment charm immediately broke and she stood there, fully visible and with her mouth gaping open.

"How did you—"

"I'm not an idiot, Kathleen," he snapped harshly. "You might be light on your feet but you're practically hyperventilating. I knew you'd come after the way you acted in the bathroom."

"I wanted to see if you were alright," she said after a few moments, trying to keep the defensive edge off her voice. What was his _problem_?

"Snape told you I was," he replied dismissively, coldly. "So why are you here?"

"Because, y—because—" She was stuttering, she knew it. Why had she come here? She closed her eyes and steeled herself. "In the bathroom. The way you were looking at me, and you were _dying_, Draco—"

"_When are you going to get it through your head, Kathleen_?" he demanded viciously, and his tone hurt almost as much as him refusing to use the name that belonged between them - _O'Malley. _"I'm not your fucking hero, alright? I'm not going to transcend my roots and become Saint Potter, I'm not going to suddenly reveal to the world that I'm good deep down, and I'm not going to be _saved_ by whatever you think is between us. I am a _Malfoy_. And don't start with me that none of it matters and that I could really just get over it if I would just _look deep enough_, because it's a lie. It's a lie that you created so that you could keep loving me, because Merlin knows that you couldn't live with yourself unless I was good. But I'm not, Kathleen, and I never was. There was a point when I thought that I wanted to be, for you, but wanting isn't the same thing as being. I recognized that a long time ago, it's time you did as well. I don't love you anymore and it wouldn't matter if I did because it would change _nothing_. So stop creating your fucking fantasies and making up ways that I can be redeemed. I was happy that your face might be the last one that I saw, you realized it, and so what? Now I'm not a Death Eater? Now I didn't force you into taking an Unbreakable Vow? Now I didn't lie to your face for months on end because I was a selfish prick and I didn't want to have to face up to the loneliness of you rejecting me for what I really am? Don't be so weak, Kathleen," he snarled. He breathed in sharply and let his grey eyes bore into hers ruthlessly. "Get out of here."

She stared at him wildly; whispers of breath were escaping through her slightly parted lips. She stood there for only a moment before Kathleen turned on her heel and walked out.

This time, for good.

* * *

><p>His eyes traveled up her body as she left, memorizing each detail and imprinting it into his mind. The pain of hurting her so completely and irrevocably would have been enough to overwhelm, but the weight of guilt that was lifted from his shoulders was so immense that he couldn't help the genuine smile that reached his lips.<p>

He had let her go. He had _finally _set her free from his poison.

That night, for the first time that he could remember, Draco slept like a baby.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Yeah, I know, I know. And I'm sorry about the update time - RL is kicking my ass right now. What did you think? This chapter marks where reality has truly set in for everyone. Kathleen finally admits that she's not the pillar of strength she's been projecting to everyone else, and that she needs help, even if it means setting her pride aside. Draco... will be explained more in the next chapter. But as you can tell, the Sectumsempra got to him. It only gets more exciting from here on out :} In my humble opinion, of course. You guys rock. Please review!_


	25. Comrade

_A/N: Indulge the Snapeness that's creeping into the story. I find his character so damn interesting and I'm enjoying creating a bit of a shitty-father/catty-daughter type relationship between him and Kathleen. So yeah, it's not Kathleen/Draco focused, but... I like Snape..._

_sue me._

_:) You guys are great. Thank you for all of the wonderful support - especially to my regular reviewers. I know it sounds like a ploy for reviews, but seriously, you guys make writing worthwhile._

_oh and ps, shameless self-promotion, for those of you who enjoy Dramione, I've started one and I'm excited about it. It's called Ward Four and it's a really different situation than this one. But I promise that Pins & Needles is still my baby._

_Anyway._

* * *

><p><em>Well, I guess that answers that, doesn't it, McCormack?<em>

In a way, she was grateful. It was the first selfless thing Malfoy had ever done for her, probably for _anyone_—to admit just how low he was and to point out just how _eager _she was to forget it.

Nothing stung worse than the truth.

She was so furious and hurt—_heartbroken, _though she wouldn't dare admit such a thing—that she didn't even bother trying the disillusionment charm, so when she saw Snape when rounding the corner, she immediately swore and fell back.

_Shit shit shit shit shit!_

She forced herself to slow her breathing and she muttered the disillusionment charm again, but she couldn't focus, and the result was random, flickering spots of invisibility over her body.

_You're going to get expelled!_

In itself, that didn't matter to her. The warning from the fat Ministry bastard did, though—cooped up at a delinquent centre was _not _a bloody option.

She could hear his shoes clicking against stone, in her direction. The only way was to run, but if she ran, he'd _hear_, and then he'd run behind her, and there was only so far she could go—

"Good evening, Miss McCormack."

Piss.

"Good evening, Professor," she said brightly, smiling. His hard stare hastily informed her that feigned ignorance was a poor course of action. "Er, look, I can explain—"

"That you've been to see Mister Malfoy? And tell me, Kathleen, how was your visit?" His tone was mocking, and his black eyes were boring into hers harshly. She stared back at him, poorly concealing her shock at his bluntness. He knew, the bastard _knew,_ and he was just taunting her, feeding her emotional ruins to the dogs. "Did you find what you were hoping for?"

She stared at him incredulously. The question spilled out of her before she could stop it, and she wasn't even really sure where it came from.

"What _exactly _do you have against people thinking you might be kind?"

His eyes were suddenly full of what she could only describe as black fury. Outwardly calm, but inside he was oh _so _close to losing his composure. "You tread a fine line, McCormack—"

"You do it with everyone," she continued seamlessly—stupidly. _Now you've got porridge for brains? Bloody perfect. _"You've done it with me. I've seen it with Malfoy too! You go out of your way to help people, but as soon as any sort of relationship starts to form you start spewing acid to make sure that it doesn't!"

Snape's face twisted into an ugly mask of rage and for one fleeting moment, Kathleen thought that he was going to strike her. She screwed her eyes shut, preparing for the blow, but none came. "You think yourself wise, do you?" he whispered through his clenched teeth, so softly that she had to strain to hear.

"Don't you think it's _sad_?" _Gods, you really are an idiot. What are you even _talking _about? _"I mean, what could possibly so terrible about being open to companionship?"

Silence stretched between them until they were miles apart. "You seem to forget that you are nothing but a fifteen year old girl, Miss McCormack. Thirty points from Slytherin and you will serve detention Saturday mornings for the remainder of the semester," he muttered finally. She didn't like the way he'd slightly emphasized the word '_girl_.' It made her feel small and stupid.

His voice was so _maddeningly_ calm.

Kathleen just rolled her eyes. "Whatever," she muttered back.

"You have a lot of cheek for someone who's just been spared expulsion," he hissed.

"And you have a lot of nerve to ridicule someone who you know has lost _everything!_" she bellowed, shocking herself just as much as she was Snape.

_Alright, you've officially gone insane. Perhaps I'll just leave you to it, then._

He glared at her with his lips set in a tight line. To her surprise, he didn't seem to know what to say. Finally, he sighed in extreme frustration. "What do you _want_, Kathleen?"

She expected an onslaught of rhetorical suggestions, but it seemed that he had sincerely asked the question and actually wanted her to answer it. Problem was, she wasn't really sure how to…

"I just wish you'd allow yourself to be _human_ every once in a while," she mumbled after a few moments.

"That privilege was revoked from me almost twenty years ago," he replied, his voice hard. How was he able to keep eye contact for such an ungodly amount of time? "And I can't say that it's one that I particularly miss."

"You and Draco with your bleeding cryptic speech and fucking _excuses_! I don't know _why_ it is that you two seem to think you're the only ones who have ever suffered!" she blurted, and proceeded to instantly regret it.

Fuck, she really was going to get expelled. She covered her face with her hands and forced herself not to groan, though a soft, strangled sound still managed to escape.

"I am… sorry."

Her hands dropped slightly and her eyelids pulled back to their limit.

"However, I feel that it's only _fair _that you apologize as well," he continued on forcefully, completely ignoring that she was gawping at him like he was a three-headed dog. "I made it quite clear that you were to stay in your _dormitory_ for the rest of the night. You disobeyed me."

Kathleen bobbed her head up and down in slight disbelief. "Okay, yes, fair enough, I'm… I apologize."

"Your punishment stands."

"I expected as much," she sighed. He seemed appeased at her admitted defeat, and she looked at him quizzically, studying him, before she turned to head back to the dormitories. "Goodnight, professor," she said quietly, without shifting to face him.

He started slightly at this, though she didn't see it. "Goodnight Kathleen," he returned, just as stiffly as she'd expected him to.

* * *

><p>Draco Malfoy had never understood the variance of emotion before her. Before, there was <em>I feel bad <em>and there was _I feel good_. He was neither here nor there now. The merciless guilt that had plagued him had finally lifted: after a lifetime of denial, he was able to admit himself to be the shit that he was. Selfish, dishonest, weak. He thought that it would have been painful to bring to the surface and make it real by saying it out loud, but in doing so, he'd probably saved Kathleen.

He had been nothing more than a bringer of destruction in O'Malley's life. Her strength had given way to her naïve optimism. She wasn't stupid by any stretch, but no one could deny that Draco Malfoy was anything short of brilliant in the art of manipulation. He had won over her time and time again, but he thought that the Dark Mark had cleaved them apart for good. Draco realized in the bathroom that he would _always _win against her unless he himself admitted that he was a monster—so he did.

In doing so, Kathleen would sever her unconscious obligation to him and stop walking into disaster, because disaster was all he left in his wake. She would remain low-profile; unassociated with the Malfoys. She could stay at Hogwarts while he went off to live out the rest of his pathetic life as a Death Eater. She would be safe.

That felt good.

Yet to say he was _content _was a crock of shit. He may no longer feel guilty, but there was absolutely no doubt that he was fucking miserable. He had made her safe.

But even if she was safe, she was not with _him_. And he was finally beginning to grasp that that would _never_ feel good.

So what the fuck was he supposed to do now?

_I think you're beginning to understand what it is you have to do, now._

Greasy know-it-all. Exactly _how _Snape knew exactly what went on in Draco's mind, he wasn't sure. But somehow he did, and it was bloody infuriating.

Snape knew when he noticed Kathleen. He knew when he began deceiving Kathleen. He knew when he fell in love with Kathleen.

He knew when he decided to let go of Kathleen.

It was getting close. He didn't have much time left now. He wondered absently if he would get a proper funeral if he got killed in his attempt to murder Dumbledore.

_What would they say?_

Would they realize that he didn't want it; would they see him for the scared, broken little boy that he had been, that he was now?

Would he be immortalized as the one who wasn't strong enough?

Draco ran his fingers over his neck, tracing the scar that Potter had left. The Dark Mark taunted him out of the corner of his eyes, but he didn't bother to look at it fully. He had been marked for what he'd done - for what he was - and there was no going back now.

* * *

><p>Kathleen sat herself snugly between Dean and Seamus and avoided Harry's gaze at all costs. She didn't care if Harry was the golden boy or that he swore he didn't realize what he was doing to Malfoy, she wanted nothing to do with him.<p>

She knew his eyes were trailing back to her every so often, probably in hopes that she would acknowledge him or give some sign of forgiveness. She had no intention of doing anything of the sort. She decided not to bring it up to her friends, though—not only was she unwilling to hear their vehement defense for Harry, she wanted to avoid the topic of Malfoy at any and _all _costs.

How had it all come to this?

At first, Malfoy was just a crush, a mysterious interest that she needed to pursue. Somewhere along the line, everything fell apart. Somehow, things had gotten too deep, far too quickly. She couldn't believe that she hadn't even known him for a year.

And what, exactly, did that say about her? She had let her life be dictated by a stranger—even when her parents were murdered.

Even when Bridget was still missing.

"Uh oh," Dean teased. "I know that look. What are you thinking about?"

Kathleen glanced back at him, licking the last bit of yoghurt from her spoon.

"What's going to happen if there's a war?" It was a serious question, but she asked it so lightly—like asking what they were planning to do on the weekend.

"Christ, Kathleen," Seamus breathed, looking up from the _Prophet_. "It's not even 8 o'clock yet, mind laying off the apocalyptic talk?"

"I'm serious," she insisted. "What would we do?"

"There's not going to be a bloody war," Seamus replied irritably, burying himself back into the newspaper. "And even if there was, it wouldn't affect us. We'd just stay at Hogwarts."

"And why do you think a war is so far-fetched?" She snapped, just as grumpily as he had.

She thought back to Monday evening—someone had torn apart all of her muggle clothes and possessions during classes, leaving a nasty, threatening note behind. The most disconcerting part about it was that she didn't even believe that it was Pansy who'd done it—it could've been a number of people from Slytherin. She chose not to mention it to anyone, she just went down to Snape's office and simply asked him to mend them, which he did without questioning her about what had happened, and more importantly, why it had happened.

Acts like these weren't uncommon in Hogwarts anymore, and outside of Hogwarts, hate crimes were becoming a frighteningly ordinary occurrence. As cheated she felt by the loss of her own parents, she knew that she hadn't been the only one to have family members taken away by Death Eaters.

There was another killing on the front page of the newspaper that Seamus was reading.

"The opposition against you-know-who is too strong," Dean said finally, filling in the answer that Seamus couldn't seem to. Try as he might, the reply sounded half-hearted. "I mean, look, we've got Dumbledore watching over us. It won't happen."

Kathleen moved from her yoghurt to a piece of buttered toast. "I don't mean to sound fatalistic, but they're killing off the opposition."

Seamus blew out air and abandoned his copy of the _Prophet_. "As I said, we'd stay at Hogwarts."

"Would everyone, though?"

Seamus narrowed his eyes in confusion. "What are you trying to get at here, Kathleen?"

She stared at her plate, avoiding both of their eyes. "Well, I wouldn't want to come back."

Seamus seemed appalled at the idea, but Dean didn't react.

"Kathleen, this is the _safest_ place you could possibly—"

"No it isn't, mate," Dean interjected, making Kathleen turn to him a bit incredulously. "Not for us. Maybe it is right now, but the world is changing, you wouldn't even bother trying to deny that. You don't understand. You're a half blood."

"So is Kathleen!" he barked defensively. "It doesn't _matter _anyway, it's Hogwarts!"

Dean shook his head. "It will matter, though. Kathleen's grandmother has it out for her, and I'm as good as a mudblood, not knowing who my father is."

Seamus shifted uncomfortably and furrowed his brow. "I don't know what you two're expecting to happen! As long as Dumbledore's here, we'll be okay, do you hear me?"

He was trying to assure himself as much as he was Dean and Kathleen.

Kathleen lowered her eyes to her plate and Dean wrapped his arm around her comfortingly, pulling her into his shoulder. Seamus stared hard at the wall for a moment before sighing and leaning onto Kathleen's shoulder, meeting Dean's arm over her back.

No words were said, but none were needed. They all knew that they were finally admitting they had reached the calm before the storm.

* * *

><p>"Malfoy," Blaise called to his dormmate as he was rushing out the door. "I need to speak with you about something."<p>

Draco hesitated before turning. "What?"

"McCormack's grandmother," he said slowly. Draco's stomach jumped to his throat. "She's offering top galleons for someone to pick up Kathleen when the Death Eaters infiltrate the school."

Draco swallowed and tried to keep steady. "I haven't heard anything. Who told you that?"

"My mother," Blaise sighed, rubbing his hand over his hair. "I don't think she's got enough standing with the high-rankers to be asking favours. She's been talking to the lower-ranks and the peripherals—my mum and her current shag whatshisname, and Scabior… Greyback, too."

Draco blanched and swallowed heavily again. He blinked for several moments, breathed in and out, but he couldn't seem to think of anything to say.

"Draco," Blaise pressed forcefully. "She wants _me _to do it."

Draco's head snapped up and he suddenly became aware of his own heartbeat. "Blaise, if you hand her over to them, I swear that I will kill you."

"I'm giving you a warning," he replied in a low voice. "If I see her that night, I'm not going to put my ass on the line again. I would do it for you, but not for her. I just wanted to make sure that we're very clear on that."

Draco's head was swimming. "Doesn't your mother have _enough_ fucking galleons?" he snapped, unable to think of anything else to say.

"Four 'accidental' deaths and four large inheritances later and you think she gives a rat's ass about a blood traitor?" Blaise shot back. Then he closed his eyes and blew out air. "Look, mate, I'm sorry. I can't get out of favour with them, I can't look suspicious. Not when Dumbledore's about to die. Get her hidden, keep her out of the school, I don't care. I'm not going to go looking for her. All I'm saying is that if Kathleen and I bump into each other, she'll be gone."

Draco sucked in a breath and slammed his foot against his side table, causing it to crash to the floor. He turned to his desk and began chucking every object he could get his hands on at the wall.

"Fuck! _Fuck_!" he screamed. Blaise watched the carnage silently and waited for him to finish. When he did, he stumbled over to Blaise and collapsed beside him, panting and gritting his teeth so hard that he thought they might shatter into dust.

"Just keep her out of sight," Blaise repeated, staring at the wall in resignation. There was dead quiet for several minutes.

"Thanks for telling me," Draco finally choked through his teeth. "After everything, I wouldn't have expected you to."

"I'm your friend," Blaise replied quietly. "And I almost lost Daphne this year. I get how it feels. You've lost her enough times already and I don't want to be the cause of it now."

Draco hung his head, utterly lost.

* * *

><p>Time passed quickly, and everything seemed to be coming together at once.<p>

The cabinet was ready.

"It's time," Snape said, his voice neither gentle nor commanding. "Dumbledore will be gone for the evening and returning late in the night next week. We must strike then. It's the only way you'll get Death Eaters inside the school."

Draco swallowed heavily, staring at the floor. He caught himself wondering if Snape felt even a trace of guilt for signing his colleague's death certificate so freely.

As if he could read Draco's mind—_he's always inside your head, somehow_—Snape sighed and gave him a hard look. "You must remember, Draco, that it is for the greater good. The details are unimportant."

He rubbed his Malfoy ring with his thumb.

The details seemed awfully important to him.


	26. Tremble, Little Lion Man

_A/N: I am SO sorry for the wait. I don't know what it is about this chapter, I've been working on it this entire time and it still took me this long to write. It's really been a struggle and I don't know why._

_I'm not sure that I'm 100% satisfied, but I didn't want to make you guys wait any longer. I hope you still like it, I put a lot of effort into it and I tried quite hard this chapter to give some of the less-discussed characters a bit more depth._

_Feedback is always appreciated and you guys are the BEST!_

_All rights to JK Rowling for Harry Potter, this is purely entertainment. The title of this chapter is from a Mumford & Sons song that I feel fits the whole story in some way. No copyright infringement intended._

* * *

><p>Brave. He just needed to be brave.<p>

_Slytherins aren't brave, dumbshit. We're too smart to be brave. We like _living _too much to be brave._

But what if living _required_ bravery?

Someone was going to die tonight, and Draco had a sinking feeling that it wasn't going to be Dumbledore. He couldn't do it. He knew that he couldn't. And now, he realized, Voldemort knew it too. Draco had not been selected to prove himself and his family to the Dark Lord. He had been chosen as Lucius' punishment because it was known that he would fail. Everyone thought him weak.

_You _are_ weak, Malfoy._

What was strength? What did it mean to be courageous? What would it be to rise above it all, to emerge as the protagonist, not the villain? Was that even possible?

Had he ever even had a _chance_?

Firewhiskey torpedoed down his throat as Draco mourned his life. He had never taken it seriously and he hadn't been thankful for what he had while he still had it.

A drink to life, a drink to death, and fifty drinks to self-pity.

"Draco?"

He tore his gaze from the fire and dragged them up to the voice that beckoned him. It was the last face that he wanted to see—well, no, but close to—but he didn't scowl. He didn't have the energy.

"Hi, Pans."

She stepped toward him with trepidation. There was nervousness about her that he couldn't quite put his finger on, though he didn't really care.

"What are you doing?" Pansy asked quietly, now standing beside where he sat on the floor.

"I'm getting pissed," he stated evenly. "Why?"

"_Why_?" She repeated back incredulously. "Why are _you_ getting wasted in the middle of the week?"

"Have a chat with daddy today?" Draco demanded in a mocking, sing-song voice. "Did he tell you to be careful, to stay out of the way if anything bad happens?"

She stared at him with wide eyes. Distantly, Draco realized that this had been the most honest encounter he'd ever had with the girl. _Funny what fear does to a person_…

"Do you hate me, Draco?" she whispered.

"Yes," he replied, without even a millisecond of hesitation. He stared at her hard now, the glassiness of the liquor suddenly absent from his eyes. "I hate everything about you, Pansy."

Pansy considered for a moment, less affected than Draco had expected. "You know, you can despise me as much as you want for hating the blood traitor bitch, but at least I was honest. I wanted you. There were no secrets and I didn't have some hidden agenda. I know you all think I'm a cunt, but at least _I_ had the courage to admit to who I was."

Draco didn't blink as the fire cracked away in front of him. "Why did you come here?"

"From what my father said—"

"If he blabbed, I'll have his balls for breakfast," Draco interrupted savagely. "I mean that. I don't know how he even got wind of it in the first place."

"He didn't _blab_," Pansy huffed. "All I could get out of him was that something was going to happen, and I've figured out that you're somehow at the centre of it."

He took another swig. "_And?_"

"_And_," she continued, annoyed, "as I've just confirmed that you hate me, I wanted to see if I should be hightailing it out of the school."

"Christ, Pansy," Draco gasped out in genuine disbelief, quickly taking the flask away from his mouth. "What do you think I am, some sort of fucking bounty hunter? I'm not bloody trying to collect heads for my trophy cabinet. Fuck sakes," he breathed, bringing the firewhiskey back up.

Pansy snatched it from his hands. "That's enough for now, I think," she whispered fiercely, a troubled look on her face. "How am I supposed to know what you are? I don't know a thing about you. So you don't have a price on my head?"

"Merlin's beard," he muttered, staring listlessly into the fire and tucking his chin behind his knees. "No, I don't have a fucking price on your head. Just because I can't stand you doesn't mean I want you _murdered_! Bloody _hell_, woman!"

She shrugged unapologetically. "Had to make sure."

"Gods, you really are barking," he moaned.

"Maybe, but I'm not stupid."

Draco regarded her. "Shockingly, no," he agreed. "So why do you try your damnedest to make everyone think otherwise?"

At this, Pansy smiled as she crouched beside him, and it was a downright terrifying sight to Draco.

"Because," she murmured silkily, running one of her long fingernails along his jaw line, "people start noticing when you have something to offer. Someone might take advantage."

He snatched her finger and glared murderously at her. "Don't touch me, Parkinson."

She laughed mirthlessly into his ear, her breath ghosting down his neck. "I wanted to hate you for sharing your bed with that muggle _slut_," she whispered harshly. "But even when I tried, I never could… I still can't."

"You need to leave. Now," Draco said coldly, refusing to take his eyes away from the fire.

She sighed and stood after a few moments. "I don't know what you're up to, but I hope that you know what you're doing," Pansy said softly, in a tone of voice that he couldn't quite decipher.

He listened as her footsteps grew more distant, his mind buzzing, his fingers tapping anxiously. Finally, his resolve broke and Draco called out her name.

Startled, Pansy spun and stared back at him. "Yeah?"

"Stay out of the halls tonight," he sighed tiredly.

She nodded slowly, waiting for a few moments before starting up the stairs to the girls' dormitories.

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes.

This was _not_ the life that he wanted.

_Too bad it's the only one you've got._

* * *

><p><em>Kathleen,<em>

_Meet me in Gryffindor common room at half past nine. It's urgent._

_Don't come before then. I'll explain once you get here._

_Seamus_

She crumpled the note and set it aflame with her wand, feeling like it was meant for her eyes only. Kathleen had no idea what this was about, but she heeded Seamus' instructions and stayed put for the time being.

* * *

><p>The encounter with Pansy had unnerved him. Was this the life of a Death Eater? People cowering at his feet and living in fear of him? Not so long ago, he would have relished the idea. The sheer power of it would have made him drunk with glee. Now, however, it just seemed like a lonely and embittered existence.<p>

_Who would choose to live that way?_

Draco straightened his tie and marveled at the stupidity of it all. Why was he even bothering with a suit? Was he concerned about looking _professional _as he murdered a man in cold blood?

_You really are a pompous wet, Malfoy._

He glanced up at the clock and tapped his foot anxiously. He would need to head to the room of requirement soon, but first, some business needed attending to.

* * *

><p>Severus delicately placed each vial in its fabric sleeve before folding and tying the holder. He shrunk the thing and tucked it into one of the pockets of his robes. He didn't expect that he needed any of it, but allowing himself to be unprepared was about as unheard of as him frolicking in a field of daisies while laughing gaily with Dolores Umbridge.<p>

Not so likely.

For the first time in many years, a sense of dread and quiet panic was drumming through him and he felt unsteady. For once, his gut had overruled rationality. The plan made enough sense, but he didn't like it. He didn't _want _to do it.

He would hate Albus Dumbledore with an inextinguishable rage that would burn through him until the day he died. Severus would _never _forgive the man for what he was forcing him to do.

* * *

><p>Kathleen toyed with the idea of a disillusionment charm, but it wasn't even past curfew, so what was the point? She wasn't exactly a master of them, as her run-in with Snape had plainly proven. She decided that she might as well not waste her energy.<p>

She hoped that everything was alright with Seamus and Dean. It was unnerving to be separated from her two closest for so much of the day, especially when everyone else was on edge. Maybe they would give in and let her stay in the common room through the—

"Mmph!"

A gloved hand had slapped over her mouth while another clamped around her waist and she was being pulled backwards sharply. Instinctively, Kathleen kicked up her legs and thrashed about, trying to loosen herself from the iron grip.

She was dragged and then dropped suddenly. As she tried to get her bearings and stand, a door slammed in front of her and she was ensconced in darkness. She groped around to find her attacker, but before she could find them, Kathleen felt something at her chest.

"_Stupefy."_

* * *

><p>Kathleen felt a shock of energy surge through her system and her eyes snapped open as she gasped for breath. To her immediate panic, she realized that she had been bound with some sort of magic; a luminescent, blue-white line was wrapped around her wrists. Her knees had been pulled to her chest and her arms wrapped around underneath them, with more of the charmed rope securing her limbs in place.<p>

She shouldn't have been surprised, but seeing Draco's face an inch from hers gave her a start. "Malfoy?" she panted in disbelief.

"Indeed," he muttered evenly, tugging at her restraints to make sure they were tight enough and refusing to meet her eyes. Kathleen began blinking rapidly and wracking her brain for memories of the evening and before—_any _clue as to why she was here.

"You wrote the note," she breathed finally, jostling her arms a bit to see if there was enough give to wriggle them out from under her knees.

"So I did," he said calmly, then he motioned his head towards her squirming hands. "You needn't bother. I can assure you that it won't do any good."

Kathleen had suddenly become acutely aware of her own breathing and pulse. Tears betrayed the fear of her helplessness. "I don't understand. I did what you told me to. I stayed away and I didn't tell anyone," she whispered fiercely.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he said softly, finally peering up at her with clear grey eyes. His voice was gentle, which was a dead giveaway to Kathleen that he was about to do the _exact _opposite. She struggled harder, a frustrated whimper escaping her lips as she fought frantically (_uselessly_) to free herself. He put his hands firmly on her shoulders and forced her still, not taking his eyes away from hers. "I _won't _hurt you, O'Malley."

Kathleen's face darkened as she failed to shake him away. "_Don't_ call me that."

"O'Malley!" he spat back defiantly, glaring venomously at her before he looked down and forced his composure back. "I'm _helping_ you."

"Consider it from my point of view and you might see how I'm not getting that message," she snarled, now more confused than ever.

"You're too bleeding violent to have ever allowed me to get this done in a reasonable amount of time," he explained simply.

"You fucking _attacked _me!"

"Not quite so, but consider it a gift for being an enormous pain in my ass for the past year," he muttered tempestuously.

"WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?" she bellowed. For a moment, Draco's confidence seemed to falter and he swallowed dryly. He looked away from her and seemed to collect himself.

"Hogwarts isn't safe tonight, _especially _for you. I needed to hide you."

"You think _tying me up _is going to make me safer?" she demanded. "What the hell is going on?!"

"You'll know by the end of the night," he sighed cryptically before staring hard at her. "There will be other Death Eaters here this evening. Knowing you, you'd go right in the thick of it and get yourself captured. This was the only thing that I could think of, given the circumstances…"

"What—"

Kathleen was about to spew expletives and questions, but Draco swirled his wand around her head and more of the blue-white bind materialized. He took the opportunity to hold her jaw open and pull the line back into her mouth, effectively gagging her. He released it and the magicked rope tightened automatically around her, ensuring that she wouldn't be able to speak.

Kathleen snarled through the gag and she was quite confident that her eyes would be able to communicate her feelings about the situation.

"I'm sorry," he sighed, stroking her cheek with his thumb almost tenderly before his expression hardened. "But you have to listen to me and there's no time for any questions or talking back."

He closed his eyes for several moments and was making an effort to steady his breath. "Okay. First of all, I want you to see this for what it is. You took an Unbreakable for me, and it would be a damn waste for you to die the night that you're to be released from it. Malfoy's can't cope with debts on their shoulders, so consider us even for making the Vow now. I was told a few nights ago that your grandmother is offering a reward for whoever picks you up and brings you to her. I knew as soon as you'd heard that there were Death Eaters in the castle, you'd get all noble and try to fight with one so you could find out where Bridget was."

Kathleen felt her stomach drop at this new information, and her brain was racing a mile a minute. _Stupid bastard! _She thought furiously, _he has to let me speak, he _has _to!_

"And believe me when I tell you that there is nothing more _idiotic _that you could do," he continued harshly. "None of them will know where she is. She's not where the Dark Lord's set up camp, so their guess would be as good as yours. So don't go and get yourself killed _after _tonight on a wild goose chase, either. You have no way of finding her and no resources to get her back. The only hope you have is Potter's Order of the Phoenix. They're tracking the Death Eaters and their activity, so they've already got more information and manpower on it than you'll get. And if you think they'll let you join, you're out of your mind. You're too young.

"What you need to focus on is staying hidden. If tonight goes as planned, there will be wizards whose _job _it is to round up Mudbloods and blood traitors like you. Stay out of magical places, don't _use _magic, and don't use your name. If you fade back into muggle society, it'll be much harder for them to find you. Do you understand?"

Kathleen continued to glare, but with nothing else to do but listen, she nodded.

"Good. Now, back to tonight. I've set up wards on this door so that if someone happens to unlock it—though I don't know why anyone would—your binds will dissolve. Before I leave, I'll put your wand in your hands. If that door opens, you're not waiting to see who's come to visit, you are _stunning _them and asking questions later. If you're left alone—which you will be, since this is a damned broom closet and no one will be able to hear you—then the wards will break when I can't maintain them any longer, so when I'm off the grounds, or…" He swallowed. "Or if I get attacked."

She cocked her head at this and mentally willed him to undo her gag so that she could get answers to the millions of questions that were buzzing in her head.

He took a deep breath and pulled the gag from her mouth with his wand.

"Please don't, _please—_" she began desperately, but it seemed that he still wasn't satisfied with having talked enough.

"Thank you for helping me this year. I hope for both our sakes that this is the last time that you'll have to see me."

He leaned in and cupped his hand behind her neck. Kathleen tried to speak, tried to protest, but when he ran his cheek against hers, Kathleen stilled and quieted. Malfoy pulled back an inch to look at her, and his steely grey eyes provided her with no explanation or reason. All she could see was a sense of calm, which told her nothing. She hated him. She _hated _him for putting her in the dark and forcing her to stay there. She hated the masks he wore and the ease with which he changed them.

She hated that she would never know who he was.

His lips grazed hers and Kathleen felt her eyes closing, melting into the serene familiarity of Draco Malfoy. She knew this part. She _understood _this part. His lips captured hers urgently and he was moving against her with the fuel of his pain, his anger, and his motive for succeeding in doing whatever it was he was going to do tonight. She deepened the kiss, allowing herself to fade into the moment, where it was just the two of them and nothing was complicated and nothing mattered because there wasn't anything more perfect, more _whole _than what they had right then.

Then she bit him. Hard.

Kathleen thought that Draco would have jumped back, but it almost seemed that he had been expecting it. She felt him smile against her lips before he pulled back and let out a soft, disbelieving laugh.

"Glad to see that you've learned _something_ after all of this," he muttered, wiping the blood on his chin with the sleeve of his suit and hooking a finger under the loop that had served as her gag.

"NO! You _can't_—mmph!"

Draco brushed his thumb across her cheek and tucked her wand in between her bound hands. "Don't do anything stupid once I'm gone," he murmured before standing again. He strode to the door and paused for several moments. When he finally turned, he was looking at her like he couldn't make up his mind about something. Suddenly, he took a sharp inhale and knelt down to her, fiercely placing a kiss on her forehead.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

Then he was gone.

* * *

><p>Draco's pace was rather casual, considering the situation.<p>

He felt calm. He was going to die tonight, yet the thought didn't bother him. He knew it, and somehow it was alright. Besides, he would rather be dead than have to live out the remainder of his days like he had been. Draco wasn't cut out for being a Death Eater. Despite all of the talk and his bloodline, he simply did not have it in him.

He thought of no one else but himself as he came to the wall where the room of requirement appeared. Snape, his parents and even O'Malley were pushed away, because they might sway him and make him fear his certain demise. Draco closed his eyes.

_I need the room where the Vanishing Cabinet is hidden._

A large, ornate door carved itself into the stone and opened.

He took a deep, filling breath and he stepped forward. Draco knew the way to the cabinet as well as he knew the inside of the manor; his feet moved independently toward it without thought.

_So many hours, and it all ends here._

Tonight.

He opened the cabinet and placed a piece of parchment in it as signal that he was ready for them to come. Almost as soon as he'd closed it, the door burst back open and his aunt sashayed out of it, followed by Fenrir, Nott, Crabbe, and an older woman he didn't recognize.

_Are you sure about that?_

He squinted, then his stomach jumped to his throat. Her silver-grey hair had wisps of a familiar shade of rusty gold…

"Who is _this?" _Draco sneered, intentionally curling his lips up at the stranger and injecting as much disdain as possible into his voice. His father had taught him that arrogant disgust was the best way to project confidence.

"Now, now, Draco," Bellatrix tutted, sweeping towards him and wrapping a sinewy arm around his back, "_do_ remember your manners, dear nephew."

He raised an eyebrow at the woman, who had now turned. There was a smile that he'd seen before, but this one brought him no comfort. Her clear green eyes projected a wise sort of venom; a terrifying look that told him she not only knew how to perform the tasks her Death Eater robes necessitated, but that she felt absolutely at home with murder at her fingertips.

Draco knew _exactly _who this woman was.

"It's quite alright, Bellatrix, I expect the boy's a bit riled up for the night ahead of him," she said in an Irish accent that was even thicker than O'Malley's. "My name is Rosalind Clancey. I suspect that you've met my pathetic excuse for a granddaughter Kathleen—she was sorted into your house."

He bristled at the mention of O'Malley but knew better than to let it show. "Pathetic is an understatement. Bloody embarrassment would be a touch more accurate," he sneered with impressive sincerity—or what sounded like it, anyway. "But what are you doing here? I didn't request you. I've never even _heard _of you."

Kathleen's grandmother gave a tight smile and she spoke with similar sharpness. "I don't serve you_, _Malfoy. I am doing the work of my Lord and because of my _continued_ loyalty, he has been gracious enough to allow me to collect the last of my traitorous family and attempt to _discipline _her for her actions."

Involuntarily, Draco's eyes went a bit wild with her words and he desperately tried to keep his face from falling.

"We all have one rotten egg," Bellatrix muttered darkly, "no matter. Come. Dear _Severus _told us that we ought to go down to the first floor to attack."

Draco steeled himself and began to follow behind his aunt when a creak came from behind them. Bellatrix turned and smirked. "Oh, of course!" she squealed—perhaps a bit mockingly, though Draco couldn't tell what the fuck went on in the bird's head these days. "I had almost forgotten your _surprise_."

He turned, confused, and was faced by Antonin Dolohov. Draco's failure to understand was only heightened until he realized that Dolohov had been in Azkaban.

_If he's here, then…_

Behind Dolohov, a weathered, shaken man emerged. His face was gaunt and unshaven, his eyes dead and his long hair shaggy and limp. This was no man that Draco knew.

And yet the man that stood before him was unmistakably Lucius Malfoy.

"Let's leave the father and son to enjoy their little _reunion_," Bellatrix whispered in a cruel laugh, and Draco heard her heels click towards the door from behind him. "Tonight, Dumbledore dies!" She screamed, her shrill voice reverberating off of the vast walls.

Draco stared at his father, completely dumbfounded. Lucius couldn't seem to look at him, and he stood there, blinking, fists clenched.

Suddenly, Lucius stepped forward and embraced Draco tightly.

"Draco…" Lucius whispered fiercely into Draco's ear. He had to fight the urge to jerk back—this _wasn't _how his father acted and this _wasn't _how tonight was supposed to go. Luckily, Lucius seemed to remember himself and he pulled away awkwardly.

_When was the last time Lucius touched you with something other than his cane?_

_Who_ is_ this man?_

"Father," he returned fairly steadily, though there was the slightest of tremors in his voice. "It's… good to see you."

"Yes," Lucius agreed crisply, obviously trying to regain a scrap of his pride.

They were silent for what felt like hours.

"Draco," Lucius began, squeezing his eyes shut as if to shut away a thousand demons, "I am sorry to have brought this upon you. I'm… proud of you for trying to atone for my failure."

Draco hesitated. "You didn't—"

"Do _not _lie to me," Lucius hissed before looking at his son urgently. "Perhaps—perhaps after tonight, things may be as they were. Just you, your mother and I."

The way his father's voice shook broke Draco's heart. He wished for death then and there—how could Lucius, his beacon, his _idol _have become so hollow and defeated?

And how could he be so acrimonious as to let his own father become even more broken?

"Things will go back to normal," Draco murmured, steadfastly ignoring that he was actually trying to _comfort _his father. "I'll make sure of it, father."

* * *

><p><em>Silent spells. Silent spells. Not that complicated, Kathleen. Get a grip. <em>Focus!

She couldn't tell how long she'd been in the closet, but she figured at least an hour must have passed already. She couldn't hear anything—Draco probably cast a silencing charm over the room.

_Finite Incantatum._

Nothing.

Kathleen scrunched her eyes closed and deliberately slowed her breathing. She'd seen Draco do silent spells thousands of times without appearing to exert himself _too _much.

_Yes, but he was raised on magic and you got kicked down a year because you were so abysmal at it._

She gritted her teeth and thought of Bridget. Tonight was her chance. Maybe if she could corner one of them, she'd be able to get information…

_Finite Incantatum!_

Instantly, she felt her bindings lift away and her mouth became unobstructed. She let out a disbelieving cheer at her accomplishment. Kathleen sprung to her feet and shouted _Alohamora_, but no telling 'click' came from the door. She tugged at it, but it held fast. Apparently, Draco _really _hadn't wanted her to leave.

"_REDUCTO!_" She screamed, and the door blast out from in front of her. Without hesitation, Kathleen leapt out of the closet and began to run in the opposite direction of the other students. People were screaming and shouting for her to turn around, but she could hardly hear them over the sound of her own pulse.

It wasn't until she reached the Great Hall that she saw anything sinister.

Rubble littered the floors and the hall was lit up with streaks of purple, red and green spells; there were teachers dueling with unfamiliar intruders. One of the Death Eaters was wielding two wands seamlessly—

"NANN!" Kathleen roared, practically flying towards her grandmother and throwing disarming spells as fast as she could. She only had a couple of seconds before her grandmother turned and realized who her attacker was, and upon seeing Kathleen, she smiled wickedly.

In what almost looked like a vicious dance, Kathleen's grandmother began advancing towards her while swirling a wand in each hand. Kathleen quickly realized that she was overmatched, but what she lacked in skill, she made up for in speed, and she was able to block or dodge each of the curses that were hurled at her, despite the double speed from using two wands.

"_Expelliarmus!" _She cried, but it wasn't powerful enough and it only knocked away her grandmother's first wand. In the split-second that she had taken away from blocking, her grandmother had shouted a curse that she didn't recognize and sent it soaring above her head.

There was a deafening, thunderous _crack _and Kathleen could hear nothing but ringing—she tried to turn—great pieces of stone were raining down on her and suddenly she was pinned under a growing mountain of rock. Her grandmother was walking towards her slowly, a small smile on her lips, and something collided with her head—

Darkness.


End file.
